


Cunning and Ambition - Book One

by MinaAndChao



Series: Cunning and Ambition [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, M/M, Slytherin!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaAndChao/pseuds/MinaAndChao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has found out he’s a wizard and is on his way Hogwarts. He is found by a boy on the train. Who knew one simple sentence and one simple gesture could change history? A Slytherin!Harry AU</p><p>ABANDONED DURING BOOK SIX (I know the post said it was the whole series.  The post was wrong.  Sorry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Express Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Now with translation by Yana Keehl: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3539416

King’s Cross, Harry had decided, was a completely terrifying place. There were too many people coming and going who had no regard for a small boy like him, and his efforts to get help from one of the guards had gotten him nothing but scorn. So, as soon as he heard that red-headed woman talking about ‘Muggles’ and ‘Platform 9 and ¾’ he had latched onto her, relieved to find someone else who was part of this new world. If nothing else, it was proof that he wasn’t simply crazy.

By this point, the woman - a Mrs. Weasley - had bustled her large family passed the magical barrier and onto the platform itself, and was now fussing over her youngest son, who looked irritated by the attention. Once she had finished adjusting his robes and rubbing at a stubborn spot on his nose, all the while chattering final bits of advice at him, she turned her focus onto Harry. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward - at the Dursley’s it was best when he was ignored, after all. Mrs. Weasley patted his shoulder warmly, and then frowned when she felt how thin he was.

“You really should eat more, dear. It’s like you haven’t had a bite in days!” Her face wasn’t judging, really, but a flash of shame ran through Harry all the same. It was closer to the truth than he cared to think about.

Harry’s tone was only slightly defensive when he told her, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He could feel the embarrassment heating his cheeks and he ducked to the back of the train to stow his suitcase. He saw the twins from before loading their things, and tried to slip away before he was noticed, but one of them caught sight of him and waved. 

“Want a hand? Get over here and help, Fred.” Not waiting for his response, the two grabbed his trunk and heaved it into the train. As they turned back to him, the twin on the right’s eyes widened as he noticed the scar on his forehead.

Sounding only slightly chocked, he blurted out, “Blimey, you’re Harry Potter!”

That caught the attention of near everyone around them, and people began mumbling and craning to look at him. Already on edge, Harry choked out a thank you and dashed onto the train as fast as he could. Over the sounds of the crowd, he could just barely hear one of the twins shouting to their mother. “Mum, Mum! You told  _Harry Potter_  he was too skinny!”

His nerves had made him antsy, and instead of slipping into the first empty compartment he found, Harry decided to wander the train a bit. Brushing his bangs flat over his forehead, he wandered down the hallway, watching with wide eyes as the students chatted and produced items that were clearly magical in nature.

“Hey, you there!” A slightly familiar voice said, and Harry whirled around to see the blonde boy from the clothing shop staring after him. He didn’t think he’d ever caught his name.

Smiling slightly awkwardly, Harry waved back at him. “Hello.”

The boy bustled over to him, his own smile completely sure. “I remember you. We met in Madame Malkin’s.” Harry nodded. “You seemed alright then. Do you have a place to sit yet?” He shook his head no. The boy grabbed him arm in response and practically dragged him into the compartment he’d been in.

Inside were three other people - two large, stocky boys who were sharing some candy between them, and a girl with dark hair and an upturned nose. They all looked at him in surprise as the boy presented him to them with a flourish.

“This is Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle.” He introduced, sounding very formal, as if he were at some kind of fancy party. As he spoke their names, each waved and gave slightly strained smiles. “And this is...” The boy blinked at him, suddenly realizing he didn’t know his name. “I don’t believe we exchanged names last time we met. I’m Draco Malfoy. What’s your name?”

Swallowing, Harry ducked his head. “Harry Potter.” He muttered, fighting the flush that threatened to creep up his face. Silence followed his proclamation. 

Finally, it was broken by Pansy, whose face had taken on a suspicious quality.  “You’re lying.  No way you’re Harry Potter.”

Indignation flashed through Harry, and he gave her a heated look.  “Yes I am!  Why would I lie about that?”  Judging by the look on her face that was a rather stupid question, but before she could respond, a hand was thrust into his face.

“This is brilliant!  I was just about to go and try to find Harry Potter.  This saves quite a lot of time.”  Draco’s smile had just the edge of a smirk.

Harry tilted his head, not taking the hand.  “Why were you looking for me?”

Frowning, Draco slowly lowered his limb.  “To become friends with you.”

Green eyes narrowed.  “You wanted to become friends with me before you even knew what I was like?  Why is that?”

A scoff was his answer.  “Because being friends with Harry Potter would put me in a good spot later.  My Father recommended it.”  Seeing on his face that Harry was not impressed by that logic, Draco scoffed.  “Oh, please.  It’s a smart thing to do.  Besides, I wanted to be friends with you even before I knew you were Harry Potter, remember?  So what does it matter?”

That was true enough.  And he might not like it, but Harry could see the reasoning behind Draco’s actions.  Besides, this was the first time he’d ever had friends.  Maybe that was how it worked.  He stuck out his hand with a small smile, and Draco took it gleefully, shook it once hard, and then dragged him into the seat next to him.  “So, what class are you looking forward to most?”

“Er...” Harry hesitated as he finally settled into the comfortable, plush seats. “Dunno, really. I didn’t know about magic until I got my letter. I was raised by my aunt and uncle.” 

Pansy gave a squawk of noise, trapped somewhere between laughter and indignation, but she clamped her mouth shut at a hard look from Draco, who was frown in a displeased manner. 

“They put you with  _Muggles_?” Draco’s voice was incredulous as he stared at Harry. “Why would they do that? Well... I guess I understand, but that’s just barmy. Now I know why you were so quiet when we were getting our robes fitted!”

Harry nodded his head and stared down at the scuffed pair of shoes on his feet glumly, kicking them lightly. He felt like he really didn’t belong. “Yeah.”

“Well, you’re going to love it!” Draco’s voice was sure and smooth and Harry looked up to see him nodding and smiling. “I’m looking forward to Transfiguration, myself.” Draco’s mouth quirked a little when Harry gave him a blank look. “That’s changing something into something else.” 

“Oh.” Harry gave a dumb little nod. “I once made this sweater my aunt tried to put on me shrink, is that Transfiguration?”

Draco looked thoughtful a moment, tilting his sharply angular chin to the side as he pondered. “I don’t think so. I think that would be a Shrinking Charm.  If you had turned the sweater into a duck, that would have been Transfiguration. So, I bet you’ll be good at Charms.”

“ _I’m_  looking forward to Potions,” Pansy drawled. Her voice was was high, but not unpleasant like Petunia’s, and it was rather syrupy. “My dad’s a fantastic potions maker.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask the other two boys, Crabbe and Goyle, what they were looking forward to, but they were busy doing something that looked painful and unpleasant in their seats across the aisle. Shifting in slight discomfort, Harry looked out the windows to watch the sheep and cows and long, vast stretches of green. He had never really spent a lot of time around people before. He hadn’t been allowed friends, and even if he had, he was pretty sure that no one would have been interested if asked. 

“Tea trolley! Anything from the trolley?”

Harry looked over at the kind looking, older woman pushing a small trolley as she clanked her way into their cart. Crabbe and Goyle bought an assortment of items and Harry stood, interest peaked, and bought a bit of everything, figuring it would stave off his hunger and his curiosity. He ended up handing the witch a palmful of galleons, watching as she politely, quietly counted it out and handed him back his change and then dropped back into his seat.

“Hungry are you?” Pansy sneered slightly, looking over her copy of the  _Daily Prophet_. 

Harry grinned at her as he unwrapped a pumpkin pasty and bit into it. He offered his horde to the others, and Draco leaned forward and plucked up a chocolate frog. The frog leaped from the box and Draco plucked it off the arm rest before taking a box and examining the card with a curious expression.

“I’ve got Merlin again. Crabbe, don’t you need Merlin?”

“Did you get ‘im?”

Draco held out the card, and Crabbe took it and crammed it into the pockets of his trousers. Draco turned his eyes back to Harry as Harry opened a bottle of pumpkin juice. “Why are you so thin, anyway? You look thinner than me.”

Harry coloured.  “I, uh...”  What was he supposed to say?  ‘Oh, my relations starve me, no big deal’?  “Just am, I guess.”  He polished of the pastry and reached for a bag of Every Flavour Beans.  He grabbed a white one, fairly certain that was a relatively safe bet, and bit into it.  Thankfully it was marshmallow, and he swallowed happily.  He held out the bag in offer, and Draco held out his hand for a handful.  Upon getting them, the blonde started picking out the bad ones with practiced expertise. 

“I bet lots of girls would like being that way.”  Pansy said.  She exaggerated fluttering her eyelashes. “Oh, I look  _sooooo_  big in these robes, don’t you think?”  Her voice took on an even higher quality, and sounded somewhat akin to a siren.  She rolled her eyes and broke out into giggles.

“I guess you don’t like that stuff, then?”  Harry asked.

Waving her hand dismissively, Pansy shook her head.  “No, not really.  I like to make people think I do, though.  It’s funny when they believe me.  Daphene Greengrass - she’s going to be in our year, by the way - enjoys that sort of thing, and every time I see her I make up some ‘beauty tip’.  Stuff like putting oatmeal in your hair makes it look prettier.”  The girl giggled again.

Harry frowned at her, brow furrowed slightly.  “That seems rather mean.”

“Oh, it’s just a prank.  Besides, she’s mean anyway.  She likes to spread rumors and talk about how ugly other girls are.  She deserves a little pranking.”  Pansy shrugged and flipped the page in her paper.

Draco snorted and opened his mouth to say something, but the door opened and a girl with bushy brown hair peeked her head in.  “Has anyone seen a toad running around?”  The various occupants shook their head, and she frowned.  “Okay, but if you see one, it’s probably a boy named Neville’s.  If you would please let him or me know, that would be lovely.”  She ducked back out and closed the door with a click.

As soon as she did, Draco and Pansy shared a look over Harry’s head.  “What do you think?”  The dark haired girl asked.

“Muggleborn, most likely.”  He scrunched up his nose like he’d smelled something awful, and the two laughed.  

Between them, Harry frowned.  “What’s so funny about being Muggleborn?”

“Well, they’re worse, aren’t they?”   Draco said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  

Bristling slightly, Harry sat up straight and looked the other boy in the eye.  “My mother was a Muggleborn.”

Pansy and Draco both blinked.  Clearly they had forgotten that. Backtracking quickly, Draco held his hands up in a placating gesture.  “That’s what my Father says, is all.  But everyone knows that Purebloods are better at magic.”

With a frown, Harry pressed his bag of Every Flavour Beans to his chest, wondering if he should leave.  “I’m not Pureblood, but I don’t think it’s fair to say that I’m not good at magic.  I haven’t even really tried yet, have I?”

Sharing one last slightly panicked look with Pansy, Draco shrugged.  “I guess it’s just a general rule, maybe?  I don’t know, I’ve never met anyone who isn’t a Pureblood.”  He frowned as he considered that.

Silence ruled the compartment for a while, broken only by the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle grunting as they played around.  Pansy looked out the window, seeming slightly desperate for something to do.  “Oh, there’s the station!”  She exclaimed.  “We’d better get our robes on - we’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

Pansy left the compartment to change in the loo and the boys changed quickly. Harry tugged his robe over his head and crammed his taped-together glasses back on his nose just in time to see Draco drape his robe over himself - the rest of his body was just as pale as his face and hair. Harry flopped down on the seat again and fiddled with a piece of licorice wand before he nibbled on it idly. 

“You’re alright, Harry.”

Harry looked over at Draco and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I mean...” Draco hesitated a moment, and scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean you’re all right by me.”

Harry offered a small smile and nodded his head in thanks. “You’re not so bad either. ‘Cept for the face.”

Draco made a weak, offended noise but it was countered by his over-dramatic eye roll. “I think that makes us even now, does it?”

“I’d say so.”

“Good, now I can finally do this, since it’s been driving me mad.” Draco produced his wand and flourished it about in a way that looked skilled and eased. He gave a flick and gestured to Harry. “Reparo.”

There was a snap as Harry’s glasses mended and Harry took them off, squinting at them in astonishment. “Cool.”

Pansy entered the compartment again, shoving her clothing into a small bag before she draped herself back in her seat. “That girl, the one who came in here earlier, is talking to someone. She sounds like she’s eaten the textbooks.”

Harry pulled a small face. He wasn’t the greatest at remembering facts. History always tended to be his worst subject. “That’s a bit intimidating.”

“More annoying, really.” Pansy stood when the train slowed before finally halting and they de-boarded the train. 

Harry beamed when he saw Hagrid, and they chatted for a bit while they waited for all of the First Years. Draco whined a little, before finally giving in and joined the conversation, but still looked put off. They headed down to the boats, and were sectioned off, Harry, Draco and Pansy managed to climb into a boat with a boy named Blaise Zabini. With that, the boats headed off on the cool, still surface of the dark water. 

When they finally rounded the cove and Harry looked up at Hogwarts for the first time, he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. It was immense, and glowed in the darkness that surrounded it. Harry’s heart hammered faster and he couldn’t wait to walk inside. It was strange, but in a way, it felt like he finally had a place he belonged.


	2. Sorting Things Out

  
The children climbed the stairs, winding and old, up to the castle, before they were lead through the Entrance Hall and dropped off to a witch they didn't catch the name of. She and Hagrid spoke briefly before Hagrid lumbered off, leaving the First Years, anxious and wide-eyed, with her. She began walking and they scrambled to keep up with her as she led them up winding stairs, welcoming them and talking about the school. Finally they reached a door, and she talked about the Houses before telling them to wait as she ducked inside the Great Hall. 

Harry looked around nervously. He wasn’t sure what House he would be in. He recalled Draco saying that he hoped to be put in Slytherin, but he also remembered Hagrid saying You-Know-Who had been in that house. That Slytherin had been home to Dark Wizards. Draco didn’t seem like that, though...

Before he could come to any decision, there was a part in the waiting children as the red haired boy he’d come onto the platform with pushed his way up to him. His wide blue eyes took in Harry and he frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you say you’re Harry Potter at the station?” He asked.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Harry’s eyes darted around, taking in all the children who were now whispering excitedly. Beside him, Draco tensed, posture subtly switching from normal to a more posh and dignified pose. The blonde glared at the newcomer, but he was only paying attention to Harry.

“There really wasn’t time.” He mumbled, backing up a step.

The boy matched his movement, pressing up closer to him. “You should have sat with me, mate. Since we met before the train and all.” He seemed friendly enough as he thrust out a hand to shake, but he was so loud and bright that it was a bit like walking into the sun after being in a dark room. Harry took the hand anyway, smiling a bit at him. “Ron Weasley is my name, by the way.” He grinned at Harry for a moment, but then looked over his shoulder and scowled. Harry turned to head to look back at Draco, and saw the expression of distaste on the blonde’s face. “I think I know who you are. You’re Malfoy, aren’t you?”

“Correct.” Draco drawled, his mannerisms so different now than in the compartment that it was somewhat startling.

Ron’s scowl deepened. “My dad warned me about you. He said the Malfoys are all Dark, through and through. You should watch out for him, Harry.”

Frowning, Harry stepped away from him and towards Draco. “Draco has been really nice to me. I don’t appreciate you talking about him that way.” Harry could almost feel the waves of smugness coming of Draco, but decided to deal with that later, instead glaring at Ron, who looked flabbergasted and a bit insulted. He looked like he wanted to object, but just then the doors opened and a stern looking woman peered through. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and promptly hustled them out the doors and into the Hall.

The long tables were near full with students clad in black robes, and all of them were staring right at the First Years. Harry tried to shrink back a bit, but Draco seemed to flourish a bit in the attention and stood up straighter, hustling Harry a bit as he tried to get up front faster.

Professor McGonagall hustled out to the front, standing next to a filthy hat on a stool. For a brief moment Harry wondered what exactly they were up to, but then it’s brim split and it burst into song.

The song itself was something about the sorting, and the different traits of the houses, but Harry’s head was swimming with nerves and excitement, and he barely caught any of it. Once it ended, the students clapped politely, and then McGonagall pulled a list out and began reading.

First up with Abbot, Hannah, a small blonde girl with hair in pigtails. She was sorted into “HUFFLEPUFF!”. One by one the various students were sorted into one of the four houses. When Granger, Hermione was called, the bushy-haired girl from the train dashed forward, looking so excited she might explode. When the hat sorted her into Gryffindor after a short pause, she grinned widely and scampered off to the applauding table. Draco followed shortly after, and the hat was barely on his head before he was sent on his way to Slytherin with a smirk.

Finally it was Harry’s turn. He walked up slowly, indecision still churning in his stomach. He settled down on the stool, and the hat was placed on his head. Blocking his eyes from the stares of everyone in the Hall.

 _Hm...You are an interesting boy, Mr. Potter._  He heard. Harry’s eye’s darted up as he realized that was the Hat speaking. In his head, no less.  _Let’s see what we’ve got here. A nice mind, no doubt about that. A bit nervous, but that’s certainly to be expected. It seems you’ve got a bit of a thirst to prove yourself. That Half-blood business has you quite bothered, I see. And...Oh, what’s this? You have the potential to be great, Mr. Potter, and Slytherin could certainly help you on your way._

Hagrid’s words flashed through his head again, and he frowned. He didn’t want to go Dark.  _Oh, don’t worry about that. No one House has a monopoly on evil, Mr. Potter, nor does one have only good. Everyone chooses their own path, after all._  That did make him feel slightly better.  _Sounds like we have a decision, then. Good luck to you._  "SLYTHERIN!”

The hall was dead silent.

Harry slipped the hat off and handed it to McGonagall, who took it numbly, staring at him in open shock. Harry walked over to the table Draco had gone to before, shoulders hunching a bit more with each step. He was nearly halfway there before Draco stood up and started clapping wildly. 

As if that had broken the spell, the rest of Slytherin started clapping too, at first quietly, and then more enthusiastically. Draco scooted over so Harry could sit next to him, and the dark-haired boy did with a thankful grin.

There was a long moment as McGonagall stood there, rooted in place. She turned her head and looked back at the table full of teachers behind her, before she finally cleared her throat and moved on to the next student. Slowly the rest filtered off and Harry peered up at the table full of teachers. He spotted Hagrid, who smiled when he noticed him looking and gave a tiny wave with his great hand, which settled Harry’s nerves quite a bit. Harry noticed another teacher talking to Professor Quirrell, who he remembered from the Leaky Cauldron and the man stopped mid-sentence and sat up straighter. 

“Draco, do you know who that is?”

Draco turned his head - he had been talking to Blaise, and followed Harry’s eyes. “That’s Professor Snape. He teaches potions. He’s our Head of House.” 

Harry nodded faintly and turned his eyes to look at the teacher again, who had resumed his conversation with Quirrell. A sudden bolt of pain ran through Harry, like liquid fire up his spine before it settled on his scar. Harry winced and touched at his scar gingerly, afraid that it had suddenly started bleeding or burning. 

“You alright, Harry?”

Harry shook himself out of his daze at Draco’s voice and looked back to the blonde. He nodded again and made a noncommittal noise. After a moment the searing pain vanished and Harry tuned into the sound of Dumbledore speaking. He said nonsensical words and suddenly their plates were filled with roast chicken, potatoes, gravy. Harry was still hungry - the sweets on the train hadn’t been very filling - and he dove in with a contained, but voracious hunger. 

“So,” Draco asked, holding up a side plate as the salad served itself before pouring on some dressing. “What’s it like living with Muggles?”

“It’s all I know. They don’t have magic, so they do everything themselves. Or they have machines do it. They’re...” Harry paused as peas and carrots spooned themselves onto his plate. “Machines are like... these devices that help Muggles do things they couldn’t otherwise. They use them for washing, or talking over great distances.”

“That’s funny. They don’t use brooms or Floo or anything?”

Harry didn’t know what Floo was, but he wasn’t going to ask at a table full of people who knew. “No. They have cars, and buses, and trains, and aeroplanes.” 

“What do Muggles do? Like, what are their jobs?”

“My uncle works for a company, in an office. Why, what does your father do?”

“He doesn’t work. He donates money and time for St. Mungos and for the Ministry of Magic.”

“The what?”

Draco took several forkfuls of salad and a long drink of pumpkin juice before he started prattling off information about the Ministry of Magic, what it did, how it worked, and why some of it - in his opinion - was stupid. 

Conversation flowed fairly easily, as the First Years and the occasional older student talked about their lives, once in a while stopping to explain what something was for Harry. The older students tended to look irritated whenever they had to do that, but either because he was Harry Potter or because he was sitting next to Draco, whose family was apparently quite affluent, they never said anything about it.

Finally, dinner came to a close, and the Slytherins were directed down stairs to the dungeons. It was a bit of a trip, and Harry worried that he’d never be able to find his way back. Neither Draco or Pansy seemed to have this fear as they chatted merrily, but Harry saw Blaise Zabini’s face, and he seemed to be carefully memorizing each turn as if his life depended on it.

Eventually they reached a space in the wall - one that seemed rather ordinary to Harry, so far was any place with moving portraits and teleporting doors could be, but one of the older students - this one wearing a badge that labeled them a Prefect, announced ‘Ashwinder’, and a passageway appeared.

When they entered the common room, there was an awed moment as the students took in the ancient, regal furniture, and the windows, through which fish could be seen darting around - apparently they were directly under the lake.

Before he could properly take in the entire room, there was the sound of footsteps and Professor Snape entered the room, black cloak billowing out dramatically as he moved. He moved passed the gathered students until he was in plain view of everyone, before clearing his throat.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. A few words before you all head to your dorms, if you please. For the First Years, I would like to make note of a few...rules, for you. When you are in the school, you act as examples of this House. That means that any rule-breaking or dunderheaded decisions reflect on all of us, including me.” The last word was snapped out, and the First Years all watched him with wide, slightly frightened eyes. “Also, make note that the Prefects and are here to make your transition as simple as possible, but do keep in mind that you are not the only one who may need assistance.” His dark eyes roved over Draco, who tensed slightly, and then settled on Harry for a moment. He met the Professor's eyes for a second, before ducking his head and lacing his hands together nervously. There was a pause, as the words soaked in, before Snape nodded. “Very well. I wish you good luck for your stay at Hogwarts. Ah, Mr. Potter.” He drawled the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “A word, if you would.”

Harry gulped and nodded, following the Professor as he lead him back out the passageway and into a room just down the hall. Judging by the desk and shelves it was the man’s office. “Yes, sir?” He asked, the words nearly getting stuck in his throat. The man was very intimidating, if nothing else.

“I simply wish to warn you, Mr. Potter, that your celebrity status will not have the weight I believe you think it will here. As I don’t wish to have to deal with the repercussions of you throwing your name around, I will tell you this now. Do not.”

Honest confusion shining out of his eyes, Harry looked up at the man. “Why would I do that, sir?” Snape blinked at him, looking slightly confused that he’d even asked that question. When he started to frown Harry continued. “If I use my...celebrity-ness to try to get people to do stuff, then they’ll only be doing it because...Well, because a title told them to. Does that make sense?” He paused and looked down, before looking back up. “I don’t want them to like me because I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. I didn’t even know that until a month ago. I want them to like me because I’ve earned it.” Feeling awkward, he shrugged and shrank back a bit. He’d said more than he meant to. It was the most he’d spoken to an adult in ages. Usually if he talked too long Uncle Vernon would take a swipe at him, and he tensed up in reflex, preparing to dodge if Snape was the same way.

Snape was staring at him, dark eyes unreadable, and they searched his face, seeming to look for something. Harry didn’t know if he’d found it or not, but the professor took a step back and nodded at him. “Very well, Mr. Potter. Carry on, then.” Clearly dismissed, Harry nodded and murmured a polite good-bye before retreated back into the common room. 

He was beginning to despair of ever fitting in here.


	3. Mixing Things Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-graphic references to violence

By the time Harry got back to the Common Room, it was a bustle of energy. People were playing cards - cards that exploded - and he saw people setting up chess boards. Harry wandered for a bit, ignoring looks that were shot his way by some of the older students and wound down the hall from the common room, intent on getting a good night’s sleep. And shutting out the world. 

When he got to the room, Draco was perched on his bed, comfortably tucked in and reading a book. He looked over when Harry found his own bed and changed into his pajamas. “Not interested in crowds?”

“Don’t really feel welcome.”

“They’ll learn.” 

Draco’s eyes turned back to his book, and Harry looked over in curiosity. “What are you reading?”

“ _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires._ ” 

Harry’s brow quirked. “Vampires, eh?”

Draco nodded, smiling a little. “Yep. My dad met one once. Apparently I did too. I was four, so I don’t remember.”

“Wicked. The coolest thing I ever did when I was a kid was break my arm when I fell out of a tree trying to escape my cousin when I was nine.”

“Escape your cousin? What did you do?”

“He punched me in the face and broke my nose for the fourth time. So I punched him in the stomach and ate his cupcakes.”

“Your cousin broke your nose four times?”

“Six, actually. And three ribs. And gave me a concussion when he shoved me down the stairs.” Harry paused after he spoke, finally realizing what he had said he lowered his eyes down to his bedspread and bit his lip. “Forget I said anything.”

“Harry...” Draco put his book aside and climbed out of bed before he moved over to sit on the edge of Harry’s. “What else?”

Harry shrugged a little. “Stuff. I... I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Draco gave almost an imperceptible nod and stood up from his spot on the edge of the bed. Harry watched him go, actually glad that Draco didn’t hug him or spout out platitudes. Draco settled back into bed and Harry pulled over his stack of textbooks, he pulled out  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  before beginning to read. 

The week passed in a blur of magic and hallways.  Keeping track of where he was and how to get to the next class was nearly as hard as Harry had feared, but luckily between all of the First Years they managed to get through the schedule without too much problem.

When Friday hit, the Slytherin First Years were buzzing with excitement.  This was the day of their first Potions class.  They had been told increasingly wild stories about the class from the upper years, and if even half of them were true than the class would be interesting if only for the sheer favoritism their House got.

Harry seemed to be the only one not excited about that little fact.  Like he’d told the Professor before, that sort of influence felt hollow.  He’d rather get points because he did a good job with his potion, rather than because of the emblem on his cloak. Wasn’t that how they were supposed to learn, after all?

As they gathered outside the classroom, a voice shouted, “Malfoy!” And Ron Weasley pushed his way forward to stand in front of the blonde.  “How could you?”

“How could I what, Weasley?”  Draco drawled, in full on Malfoy Heir mode.  Harry rolled his eyes, somewhat used to the display by now.  It was 90 percent hot air.

Ron gestured wildly to Harry, nearly hitting the smaller boy in the face.  Harry flinched back, startled, but the redhead didn’t notice.  “You corrupted The-Boy-Who-Lived, that’s what!  How did you even manage to do that on the train ride here?  Probably some Dark magic.”  Blue eyes narrowed at Draco, as though if he concentrated hard enough he could read the young Malfoy’s mind and figure out what trick he’d used.

Bristling, Harry stepped between them.  His own green eyes snapped with fire as he glared at the boy.  “He didn’t do anything except be nice to me!  Back off, Ron!”

“But, Harry!”  Ron gaped at him.  “How can you say that?  He’s a slimy Slytherin.”

Pointing to the emblem on his robe, Harry glared even more darkly.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Slytherin too, so I’d watch what you say.”

A scoff was his answer.  “Well, you are  _now_ , but you aren’t supposed to be.  You’re the Boy-Who-Lived!  You’re supposed to be in Gryffindor.”  

Harry stared at him for a moment.  “But I like Slytherin.  Besides, are we even allowed to switches Houses.”

“Only in cases of obvious endangerment.”  The brown-haired girl - Hermione? - spoke up from the back.  “It says so in _Hogwarts, A History_.”

Giving a little shrug, Harry said, “Well, I guess that’s it.  I’m not in danger, so I guess I’ll just have to be a Slytherin.  Now I’d appreciate it if you would be nicer to my friends.”  He took a step back to stand between Draco and Pansy.  “Just ‘cause they’re Slytherin doesn’t mean you can be mean to them.”

Ron looked totally confused by the exchange, and before he could come up with a response, the sound of a clearing voice rang out.  The First Years all turned away from the display to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway, looking impatient.  However, his eyes were firmly on Harry, and they seemed considering more than anything.  Not that Harry was terribly confident in his ability to pinpoint what the man was thinking.

“If you’re all  _quite_  finished with this display, than you could all please get inside to begin the lesson.”  Snape’s eyes snapped away from Harry to rest on Ron.  “Ah, another Weasley.  That will be 5 points from Gryffindor for accusing another student of illegal acts.”  With that the man turned around and glided into the classroom, followed by most of the students.  Harry frowned at his back - it seemed kind of unfair to take points the way he had.  He cast an apologetic look back at Ron, who was looking completely outraged.  The redhead glanced between him and the professor, clearly unsure how to react, before settling on a fierce scowl.  Ron nodded to Harry once, acknowledging his unspoken apology, before sitting down at a desk and glaring at Snape’s back.

As the class began, the candles around the room brightened, making it at least light enough to write by.  The students brought out their supplies, and Snape launched into a speech about the class.  When it wound down he turned to Harry, eyes intense.

“Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry floundered for a moment, caught out, before the reading he’d done with the other First Years came back to him.  “Um...some sort of sleeping potion, right?  The really powerful one.  The...Serum of Living Death?”

Snape’s expression because even more focused, if possible, and Harry resisted the urge to duck under the table.  He just wished the dungeons would swallow him up instead.  In a place like this, who knew?  Maybe he’d get lucky.  “Not quite, I’m afraid.  It is the  _Draught_  of Living Death.”  He paused.  “And where would I find a bezaor?”

For the life of him, Harry couldn’t remember what one was, but the location of one had been so interesting that he’d retained that.  “Um, the stomach of a goat, sir?”

“Correct.”  The professor practically  _purred_ , the edges of his mouth pulling up in what would be a smile on anyone else.  “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”  

Swallowing the knot in his throat, Harry shook his head.  “I...I don’t know, sir.”  His mind whirled and he stared at Snape while he tried to remember.  Something in his professor’s face made him reconsider, however.  He looked like he devious.  This...was a trick question.  His brow furrowed, Harry tilted his head to the side.  “Is there a difference, sir?”  It was a shot in the dark, but it was the best he had.

Snape breathed in deeply, and his gaze never wavered from Harry’s eyes.  “There is not.  They are, in fact, different names for the same plant.  10 points to Slytherin.”  He turned away, and Draco bumped shoulders with him, an honest grin of excitement on his face.  Harry was familiar enough with the other boy to know that was unusual, and grinned back, ducking his head.

The rest of the class was blur of disgusting ingredients and tiny instructions.  By the end of it, with Draco’s help - and the other boy was rather good at the subject - they managed to brew a near perfect potion.  Pansy, on the other hand, was glaring at Daphene, who was gazing disinterestedly toward the front of the room, while their potion gave off plumes of dark smoke.  She turned and locked eyes with Harry, mouthing ‘next time we work together’.  A glowing ember of pride warmed Harry.

No one had ever wanted to partner with him before.  It was a nice feeling.

They all packed up to leave, when Snape drawled out, “Mr. Potter, if you would stay a moment.”  Harry nodded tightly, worried he might be in trouble.  The professor had a way of saying his name that made him feel like he’d done something wrong.  He waved slightly at Draco, who promised to wait outside, and walked up to the desk.

“Sir?”

For a moment, Snape simply looked at him, almost like he was seeing Harry for the first time.  Then he blinked and seemed to come back to reality.  “I wish to extend my pleasure that you have done so well in getting ahead in your studies.  It reflects well upon our House.”  This expression was somewhat considering, head tilted ever so slightly to the side.  “As you are among the few in my house who does not have a background conducive to this class, I would like to offer a chance to catch up with your year mates.  It would be a pity if you were to bring down the collective competence of your fellow Slytherins.”

Harry nodded, eyes wide.  Draco had told him about what being a Potions Master  _meant_ , and the chance to work with him to catch up would help with the work immensely.  “I would appreciate that, sir.”  He replied, straightening his back and trying to match the professor’s formal tone and vocabulary.

“Very well, Mr. Potter.  I will see you tomorrow at 2 in my office.  Take care not to be late.”

Nodding again, Harry practically squeaked, “Yes, sir!” Before he scurried out to tell Draco.  

Harry immediately told the other boy the entire tale as they walked up towards the Great Hall.  Draco’s face became slightly pinched, and his answered shorter as he heard about Snape’s offer to tutor Harry.  

Guilt crept up in the smaller boy - it really wasn’t fair for him to have the tutoring, was it? It should go to someone like Draco, who had natural aptitude for the subject, and who loved it so much.  Hunching his shoulders, Harry muttered, “Sorry.”

“What for?”  Draco asked, his envy washing away slightly in his confusion.  
Shrugging, Harry gestured vaguely back the way they’d came.  “Maybe if we go back now, Professor Snape will let us switch.”

Draco stared at him, confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“The tutoring.  I’m sure Professor Snape would rather teach someone who really knows the subject.  I can learn through the book like all the other kids raised by Muggles.  It’s not really a big deal.”

Grey eyes wide, Draco tilted his head.  “Don’t you want to get those lessons?”

Harry shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess, but you really like Potions, so I thought you might want it more.”

For a moment, Draco looked like he was considering the idea, before he shook his head.  “No, Professor Snape offered them to you.  He probably wouldn’t like it if we tried to switch.  And anyway, he chose you for a reason.  Even if the reason is you’re not as good as the rest of us.”  Draco stuck his nose in the air, but he was grinning.  Harry brightened and knocked his shoulder into the blonde, who gave an exaggerated ‘Umf!’ and flung himself dramatically sideways, like he’d been hit by something huge. The two entered the hall and Draco quickly switched back into Malfoy Heir Mode, ignoring Harry when the smaller boy rolled his eyes at the display.

During lunch the second wave of post arrived and Harry took the  _Prophet_  from Draco and unfolded the paper, skimming the headline about the break-in at Gringotts. It had happened at the beginning of the week, but the news was still rolling out. He paused and then lowered his paper. “Seven-one-three.”

“Hm?” Pansy looked up from her History of Magic textbook and lowered her ham sandwich. “What did you say?”

“The vault that was broken into. It’s just...” Harry closed his mouth when a few people peered over. He shrugged nonchalantly, but gave Pansy a pointed look that said he would tell her later. She nodded her head and turned her nose back to her reading.

“Ah, got my letter from Mum!” Draco unfolded the letter with a flourish and read over it. “Hope you’re doing well... Dad sends his love... Care package arriving... Ah!” Draco tugged on Harry’s robe until the other boy slid closer. “My mum says she hopes that you make friends in Slytherin and that you enjoy your time at Hogwarts and she’ll send you something next week. She hopes we’ll become great friends.” 

Harry beamed. Positive words from a classmate’s parents was unheard of! Friends, the idea of being accepted by the Malfoys, let alone  _liked_  was extraordinary. “I hope I can meet her.”

“Well, I’m going home for Christmas. If you’re not going home, I can ask if you can come. If you wanted.”

Christmas was still a far ways away.  Harry couldn’t believe that they were planning that far ahead, but he gave a nod. “I’d like that a lot. Thanks, Draco.”

Draco opened his mouth to say something but a loud explosion from the Gryffindor table made him raise his head. A boy sat frozen in his seat, wand clutched in his hand, still limply raised. Luckily it looked like no one was hurt, but something on the table was smoking terribly and the bushy haired girl and the Weasley were waving the smoke away, coughing lightly. Draco rolled his eyes before taking a bite of his sandwich and tugged the Prophet over from Harry. 

“Our first flying lesson is after lunch, are you excited?”

Harry looked over at Blaise, who had asked around a mouthful of his egg salad sandwich. Harry pondered a moment and smiled, a little nervously. “Excited. Nervous. More excited though. Flying... it... it seems impossible.” 

“It’s awesome! My mum got me my first broom this summer, and nothing makes you feel so free.” Blaise took a bite of his sandwich. He often talked about things his mother - who was very wealthy thanks to inheriting everything from her string of dead husbands - and what she had bought him. Harry was pretty sure he would have been jealous if it wasn’t so annoying. 

A paper aeroplane circled Harry’s head twice before embedding itself into the grain of the table. Harry picked it up and unfolded it curiously. In messy, looped handwriting read:  _Ron’s kind of a git, but you’re still alright by us! F & G. PS: We’ll talk to him._Harry smiled a little and looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George gave him a thumbs up in unison and he laughed faintly, but toted up the note in thanks. 

“Harry, what’s happened to your hair? It looks like Draco’s.”

Harry looked at Pansy before rolling his eyes upward, catching sight of his bangs, which indeed were as cornsilk blonde as Draco’s. He snorted a laugh and looked at the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George were chortling. 

“Don’t worry, Mate!” Fred’s voice called across the Great Hall. “It only lasts ten minutes.” 

“We think!” George supplied.

Harry rolled his eyes, but his mouth was twisted into a smile, and he felt so happy. It was stupid, he was sure, to feel happy over being pranked - but it was from a different House - it was harmless, and it was quite funny. “What do you think?” Harry asked, nudging Draco’s shoulder lightly. “Think I’m ready for the Malfoy family?”

Draco looked over and rested his chin on his upturned palm as his eyes flicked up to study Harry intently. “I don’t know...” He mused a moment, studying Harry’s face. “You’ve got the look, and you’re a Slytherin, that earns you points... I’m just not sure about the glasses. Malfoys are perfect after all.” Draco straightened and plucked Harry’s glasses off his nose and folded them up and set them aside carefully and watched as Harry blinked and shook his bangs out of his eyes. “Perfect.”

Harry squinted, trying to make out the fuzzy outline that was Draco. “Except, now I can’t see.” 

“Here.” Draco picked up Harry’s glasses and took Harry’s hand, lightly pressing them into his palm. 

Harry put his glasses back on, rubbing under his eyes as the world came back into focus. He grinned at Draco and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he looked like, with his hair so fair, and sticking up in the back, falling into his face in a very un-Malfoy like manner. Draco made a face but laughed in spite of himself and turned back to his paper. Harry stuck his tongue out at the other boy before taking a bite of his sandwich and waited for the chance to finally fly.


	4. Fight and Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-graphic references to violence

  
A short while later the Slytherin and Gryffindor First Years were gathered in the Quidditch Pitch, each standing next to one of the brooms Madame Hooch had set out for them. Harry spotted Ron farther down the line and gave him a little wave and a smile. Honestly, the other boy seemed all right, other than the thing he had against Slytherins. And really, Harry had no desire to create enemies for himself here - he had plenty of people who didn’t like him back in Surrey, after all. Ron’s eyes narrowed, like he wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick, but he waved back anyway, before turning around to talk with the round-faced brunette standing next to him.

Hooch snapped at them to get started, and gave a quick set of directions at how to get the brooms ready. Harry held his hand over his and commanded, “Up!”. The broom flew up into his hand immediately, and he found he liked the way the wood fit into his hand. He had dealt with plenty of brooms before, but Harry thought he could feel a pleasent tingle coming off this one. Maybe it was the magic?

Next to him, Draco’s broom was now up in the air and the blonde was mounting it. He smiled at Harry, who copied the movement. Once he was settled, he started watching the other students. Across from him, Pansy’s broom was wriggling around like there was an earthquake, and the longer it refused to get up the redder her face got. Ron’s didn’t move at all at first, but then overshot completely and hit his shoulder. Grabbing it with a sheepish expression, Ron turned to the other boy, whose broom hadn’t moved at all, and patted him on the shoulder, saying something like looked encouraging. Hermione Granger was a bit farther down, and her’s refused to do more than twitch, causing her to stamp her foot in frustration. It was strange to see her do poorly at something - the Slytherins and Gryffindors had several classes together, and she was near always one of the first couple to get it right.

Finally, most everyone was ready, and Hootch began counting off for them to lift off. When she reached 2, Ron patted Neville hard on the back, too excited to be gentle, and the brunette launched into the air, going a full 20 feet off the ground before flipping over and losing his grip, making him crash back down with an ugly cracking noise.

Harry grabbed his own arm in sympathy. He knew the sound of a breaking bone when he heard it.

The professor was over to the boy’s side in a moment, making tutting sounds over Ron’s shout of the boy’s name. (So it was Neville, then. He was probably a Pureblood. They had strange names) The redhead dashed over, apologizing frantically, but Hooch pushed him away and dragged Neville up, telling him that he could make it up to the other boy later. She lead the brunette towards the castle, barking out a threat about anyone stupid enough go flying while she was gone.

Once she was out of sight, Draco let out a bark of laughter. “Well done, Weasley.” He sneered, and Harry frowned severely at him and elbowed him subtly. He was trying to get along with the Gryffindors, not antagonize them! Draco gave him a betrayed look in response and made his way over to the redhead, whose eyes were bright with emotion.

“Lay off, Malfoy!”

Draco made a disdainful noise. “Very clever. I’ll just run back off then, since you told me to ‘lay off.’” The blonde’s eyes slid towards the ground where Neville had landed, catching sight of something sparkling. He leaned down and picked up a little shiny ball.

Ron made a grab for it, but Draco jumped back out of his reach. “That’s Neville’s remembrall! Give that back!”

“I don’t think I will.” Draco sneered. Harry snapped his name, but the Malfoy heir only seemed to tense up more at his words. “In fact, let’s play a game. If you want it, you have to come and get it.” With that he mounted his broom and started to glide smoothly into the air, grinning smugly.

Before Ron could get back to his own broom, Harry was in the air, following the blonde. Some small part of his was doing somersaults because wow. Flying was the best thing Harry had ever done. But most of him felt vaguely sick. He hated to see his new friend acting like such a bully. Like Dudley. There was also a little voice in the back of his head also whispered about what a great way this was to get in Ron’s good graces, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of why he was up here.

Clearing his throat, Harry matched Draco’s height, ignoring the other boy’s naked look of surprise at seeing him do so well. “Give the ball back, Draco.”

Grey eyes darted back and forth between the ground and Harry’s broom. “How are you doing that?” He demanded, ignoring the request.

Momentarily caught out - really, he hadn’t even thought about how he was doing it, just how much he liked it - Harry shrugged. “Dunno. The broom is doing most of the work, right?” With a little roll of his shoulders, Harry threw off the thought for the moment. “But give it back! You’re acting like a brat.”

Anger flared across Draco’s face, and he glared at Harry. “If you want Longbottom to get it back so much, you’re going to have to get it.” With that he lobbed the remembrall, and it started to fall in a graceful arc.

Harry didn’t even think before he was dashing after it, pressed against the broom like it was the most natural thing in the world. The little ball was hard to follow, but he could see the glimmer of the sun reflecting off of it, and just a few feet from the grass he grabbed it. Pulling back, he brought the broom to a clean stop and slipped off, walking the last few feet over to Ron and holding out the ball. “Here,” He smiled.

The redhead simply stared at him for a moment, before accepting the object. “Why did you do that?”

Tilting his head, Harry shrugged. “It was the nice thing to do, wasn’t it? I’m sorry about Draco. He just gets ideas in his head sometimes.” Ron nodded, not looking like he’d caught a word of that in his shock.

Beside Harry, Draco touched down, looking like he was about to start yelling. Before he could say anything, the courtyard doors slammed open, and Professor Snape stalked out, making a line straight for Harry. Ron and Draco both took a step forward, Ron looking like he wanted to defend Harry and Draco looking contrite as he glanced back at Harry and quickly mouthed an apology.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled, dark eyes focused on the small boy. Draco’s face flashed relief for a moment, clearly glad not to be the focus of that ire, before his face fell back down, realizing he might be the reason Harry got expelled. “Come with me, if you would.” The professor grabbed his upper arm in a vice-grip, ignoring Harry’s squeak of fright. Ron opened his mouth to say something, mostly likely along the lines of ‘It was Draco’s fautl!’, but a raised hand stopped him in his tracks.

Snape dragged Harry down the corridors, and the boy began thinking as quick as possible. There was no way he was going back to the Dursley’s - not now that he’d tasted this wonderful new world. Maybe he could stay with Hagrid? He had quite a lot of money, too. Maybe he could find a place to stay with that? But no place was going to get a skinny little eleven year old stay there. If he was lucky, then maybe his parents had left him a house somewhere that he could live in. He could certainly take care of himself and a house - he’d been doing so since he was 8 at the Dursleys, after all...

Instead of taking him towards the Headmaster’s office, Snape lead him down towards the dungeons. Rather than calming, Harry began to panic harder. How did wizards do punishments? Was he going to get beat up? Or maybe they cursed children here. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry made the decision to just take whatever Snape dished out - it was better than getting expelled, no matter what.

The professor stopped him in a quiet, dark alcove near the top of the stairs and pressed Harry again the wall, knuckles white with anger. Harry flinched down, fully expecting to be hit, but Snape simply stared down at him for a moment. Slowly, the boy lifted his eyes to meet his, and when he did the dark man froze. Then his eyes hardened and it took everything in Harry not to just run right then and there. He could outrun his Uncle but he didn’t think he could get away from him.

“What were you thinking?” Snape hissed, voice so strained it sounded like wind through the branches of a tree with no leaves. “Do you even realize what you could have done?”

Harry gulped. “I could have made the House look bad?” He ventured. That was the sort of thing that set his Aunt and Uncle off.

A noise somewhat like a growl escaped Snape, and Harry hoped he wasn’t trembling. “No, you buffoon! You could have broken your fool neck.” The man shook his arm slightly, as if trying to force his meaning into Harry’s head. The professor got in very close to him, so their faces were just a few inches apart, before he continued. “Your parents - you mother - sacrificed their lives so that you could live. And you repay them by pulling such foolish stunts? Doing a dive like that unsupervised.” The man paused, letting the words sink in. “I should not have to tell you what an utterly idiotic move that was, Mr. Potter.”

Blinking was his response. Harry had no idea how to deal with this. Snape was worried about him? That he would be hurt? And the stuff about his parents...Harry hadn’t ever thought of it that way before. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but instead a choked little gasp made it’s way out his throat and tears began to form in his eyes.

Snape closed his own dark eyes, rubbing his brow with two fingers. He let out a great sigh and then moved back with a sigh. “Do you understand the folly of your actions?” Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. “Very well. Come along then.” With that he grabbed Harry’s arm again and began walking.

They wound down the stairs and Harry stumbled a little when he dragged his feet while Snape darted forward. He had thought they were going to the dungeons, but instead, they wound through the halls and back up a staircase to another room. Inside was a professor Harry didn’t know and Snape let go of his arm and ducked into the class.

“Professor Vector...” Snape intoned when he stepped inside the door. Harry peered inside tentatively, looking around the side of the door frame into the room full of older students. ”I need to borrow Flint.”

Flint? Who was - what was that? Harry swallowed nervously and pressed his back firmly against the wall, trying to breathe deeply. After a moment Snape exited the room, his robes flowing behind him, followed by a tall boy with a squat face and a menacing look in his eyes. A quick glance at his robes told Harry the boy was in Slytherin too. He could faintly recall seeing him at the table during meals.

“I found you a Seeker.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion when Snape pushed Flint towards him, a faint almost smile on the teacher’s face. Harry’s brows unknotted and lifted in disbelief as the words sunk in. Seeker was a Quidditch word! He remembered that word from how often Draco talked about the sport. He looked between the professor and the boy who was gaping at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. 

“He caught a rememberall out of the air while doing a dive during his first time on a broom,” Snape supplied as he looked down at the boy. “It seems you have some latent magic in you yet, Potter.”

Harry felt his stomach knot and he cleared his throat. “T-thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded and his lip curled before he dismissed Flint back into the mysterious upper level class and turned back to Harry. “I’ll leave you two to your discussion. I’ll speak with Madame Hooch so that when you finish with Flint, you may return.”

Harry nodded his head and watched the professor leave before he turned to Marcus and listened to each word with a ravenous excitement.

After the bustle of returning to his flying lesson and the jumble of Herbology and then their second Charms class, Harry didn’t have time to tell Draco the news. When he finally dropped onto the bench and took a bite of his pot pie, Harry started telling him frantically. Draco listened, nodding every so often or interrupting. He didn’t look jealous, but he did look rather put off. 

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Draco took a bite of his roll and chewed on it thoughtfully. “A little. More about being called a brat than you making the team. I plan to sign up for chaser next year anyway, and I will be magnificent.” 

“Draco, you are a bit of a brat.” 

Draco frowned and pushed his food around his plate with a sullen look. He looked so sad, and so angry, and so alone in that moment that Harry rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I’m not saying that it doesn’t suit you, I’m just saying being a prat all the time isn’t going to win anyone over.”

Draco shot him a look before shoving him lightly. “So, when do you start learning?”

Harry brightened when Draco’s attitude shifted. “Tomorrow Flint’s going to take me out to the pitch and then I have another meeting with Professor Snape.” 

Draco nodded and sucked on his fork a moment as he thought before he pulled it out and dragged it through his pot pie. “Want me to come with you to the pitch?”

“You have that Charms essay to write.”

Draco made a face and grumbled out about how much he hated that class and that levitation spells were stupid and he’d much rather help Harry with Quidditch. Harry laughed and took a drink of his juice before putting his glass back down. He felt much more relaxed, and like a tension had been lifted between him and Draco.

Honesty stung, but it was always the best option.

~*~

Before they did anything at Quidditch practice, Flint made Harry do a few laps around the pitch. It wasn’t so much that the captain didn’t trust Snape as much as the fact that no Slytherin would take someone’s talent based on the word of another.

Harry wouldn’t mind so much except that after seeing him fly, Flint flat out refused to believe that he had never been a broom before yesterday. It took 10 minutes of convincing and Snape’s word before the boy finally sat down and explained the basics and what they were expecting of Harry.

Afterwards, Flint took out the snitch and let it free, making Harry wait a few minutes before going after it. To took less time for him to catch it than he’d been held back. By that point the captain’s eyes had taken on a maniacal glean. A good portion of the afternoon was spent with Harry playing what was basically a magical game of fetch, where Flint would release the snitch, he would catch it, and Flint would promptly let it go again. 

It was tedious, but Harry couldn’t think of anything better.


	5. Learn Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-graphic references to violence

Quidditch practice had been going on for several hours when Snape finally stopped Flint.  The older boy looked like he wanted to protest, but a look at the professor’s stern face and Harry’s exhausted frame made him reluctantly agree.  The large boy packed up the equipment and congratulated Harry on becoming seeker.  Harry could only grin in response, panting too hard to respond verbally.

Thankfully the professor gave Harry a few minutes to catch his breath before having him follow him down to the dungeons.  Once there Snape gestured to a seat, which Harry took thankfully.  The dark man went to one of the bookshelves, perusing carefully before pulling out a rather old and beat-up looking book.  He handed it to Harry, who blinked at it and opened the cover.  There was a message on the front, but it the pages had yellowed somewhat and the ink had faded to the point it was unreadable.  All he could tell was that the script was somewhat flowery, more feminine than the professor’s had been on the board in his class.

“This book is somewhat outdated by this point - several of the potions within it have been altered or superseded.  However, it’s explanations for ingredient’s properties and reactions is superb, and therefore the one we shall use.  Please begin reading on page 47.”  Snape sat down at his desk, grabbing a quill and one of the papers stacked in a little tower.

For a moment Harry blinked at the book, and then at Snape.  “I’m sorry, sir, you just want me to read this?”  The professor looked irritated at having his words parroted, and so Harry quickly went on.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the book or anything, but this is something I could do in the Common Room or my dorm.  I don’t want to waste your time.  Sir.”  He looked down at the book, running his fingers nervously of the cover.  There was silence for a long moment and he glanced back up to see Snape looking at him considering at him.

Snape finally averted his eyes, returning to writing.  “That book has a certain value, Mr. Potter, and I don’t trust it to stay in good condition amongst you and your dorm mates.”  Harry opened his mouth to protest, more reflexively than anything, but Snape continued, clearly anticipating his words.  “This is not such a slight against you so much as it is experience working with children.  Even if you were careful, it is likely one of your fellow students would not have so much care with it.  Now, please begin.”  With that the conversation was over.

With a little shrug, Harry opened the book to the proper page and began reading.  This book really was better about the reactions than his own textbook.  For several of them he’d needed Draco’s help to understand, but this book made it seem obvious.  Harry kept himself bent studiously over the book, but years of practice quietly watching the Dursley’s made him master the art of keeping an eye on someone without making them realize you were doing it, and several times Harry caught the professor watching him.  Unfortunately, the man’s gaze was as inscrutable as ever, and he had no idea why the man found him so interesting.

Blinking at a passage, Harry re-read it for the fourth time, and still didn’t find an answer to his question.  Finally he cleared his throat softly to catching Snape’s attention.  The man looked up, one eyebrow arched in question.  He looked like he wasn’t expecting anything good to come out of Harry’s mouth.  “Sir, why is it that a bezoar will only work as an antidote to most poisons?  What makes the ones it doesn’t work for different?”

Snape’s expression changed ever so slightly, looking less disapproving.  “Because the bezoar acts as an absorbent to the liquid components of the poisons.”  The eyebrow arched slightly more, and he waited to see if Harry would get it.

“So it...doesn’t work if there isn’t any liquid parts?  Like the rat poison Aunt Petunia uses.”  Harry bit his lip, hoping that wasn’t a completely rubbish answer.

Leaning forward slightly, Snape nodded.  “That is correct, Mr. Potter.  5 points to Slytherin for cunning.  Harry beamed at him in response, and Snape gave him a look that was, if nothing else, slightly less cool.  Then he went back to his grading, and Harry, renewed by his success, began reading again.

Harry asked a few more questions in the next hour, and each time the professor would give him half the answer and make him figure out the rest.  It was the sort of thing that Harry could see being irritating in the future, but at this point was still a novelty - an adult that thought he was capable of figuring something out.

Around 4 Snape finally looked up and told him he could go.  Harry got out of his seat at stretched - sitting around like that after his workout on the pitch had left him achy in strange places - and placed the book very carefully on the professor’s desk.  “Thank you very much for your help, sir.”  He told him truthfully.  He understood the subject a lot better now, even for only having gotten through maybe a fourth of the book.  The professor gave him one last intense look before nodding.  Harry started out the door when Snape’s voice stopped him.

“I expect you back here next Saturday at 2, Mr. Potter.”

Harry spun back around to look at him.  “Sir?”

An eyebrow arched at him sardonically.  “Surely you have not finished the entire book.”

“Well, no, but I figured you had better things to do.”  Harry shrugged.  

Snape’s expression was heavy as he stared at Harry, who squirmed slightly.  “I would not offer if I did not wish to see it through.  You would do well to remember that.”  The boy nodded more out of intimidation than understanding.  “2 o’clock sharp.”  And then he began working again.

For a moment Harry didn’t know what to do, before he simply nodded and murmured a quiet ‘Thank you.’  If the professor heard it, he didn’t react, and so Harry slipped out the door.  He had a lot to tell Draco and Pansy.

When Harry arrived back in the Common Room, Draco was finishing up the last of his homework with Pansy and Blaise and Harry threw himself down on the plush, sleek leather couch with a groan. He felt sore and overworked, and mentally drained. He rubbed his fingers against his temples and slid his glasses up to his forehead as he rubbed his eyes.

“Poor Harry,” Pansy cooed, pushing out of her chair, she made her way over to the couch and sat on the end, slowly scooting over towards his head and smiled when he laid his head in her lap. “Headache?” 

Harry nodded and smiled when her cool, dexterous fingers rolled against his temples, making him sigh and he let his eyes close. “I could go for some Asprin.”

“Some what?”

Harry laughed a little and cracked his eyes open and peered up at her. “It’s a Muggle headache remedy.” 

“Do you want us to take you to the Hospital Wing?” Draco asked, his voice sounded slightly muffled by Pasny’s hands, which were lightly cupped over his ears as she rubbed her fingers in soothing, delightful motions.

“I don’t quite fancy moving,” Harry admitted, smiling wryly. “Can we get someone else to do it?”

Pansy giggled and Harry felt her shake with the laugh, and he smiled a little. “Well that sounded very Slytherin of you.” She deposited a kiss on his forehead and he crinkled his nose causing her to laugh harder. 

“Y’know,” Harry started slowly, turning his body a little so he was laying more comfortably. He kept his eyes closed but made a happy noise when one of Pansy’s hands moved to his neck to rub. “I really can’t figure out why everyone’s so shocked I was Sorted into this House. Doesn’t the Sorting Hat not make mistakes?”

“People have a lot of prejudice with Slytherin after what happened with You-Know-Who,” Blaise’s voice explained. “I reckon they think we’re all headed that way. The Dark Wizard Grindlewald wasn’t even from Hogwarts, so people can’t make assumptions. But since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was from this House, and he did what he did, I guess people feel they can paint us all with the same brush.”

“I guess people figure since so many followers of his were from here...” Pansy’s voice was so low she was practically murmuring and Harry figured she didn’t want to draw attention to their topic of conversation. “But many of them were imprisoned or defected after his downfall.” 

“Defected?” Harry questioned. He opened his eyes and squinted up at her face since his glasses were lost somewhere in his hair. “People like who?”

“People like my Father,” Draco’s voice was barely above a whisper and Harry swore he could hear the shame in his tone. 

He nodded once, he would have pressed if he knew it wasn’t such a sensitive topic. For both of them. He let it lie and curled up when Pansy resumed her massaging. 

“Besides,” Blaise said, breaking the silence. “People probably figure since your parents were in Gryffindor, you would be too.”

Harry grinned a little, feeling heady thanks to Pansy massaging his headache away. “Well, I am not my parents, am I?”

“No, Harry,” Blaise agreed with a laugh, “you’re definitely not.”

~*~

“I cannot believe you waited until now to do this assignment.”  Pansy glared at Draco through her yawn.  “And worse, that you had the audacity to drag me and Harry along with you.”  She gestured wildly at the smaller boy who simply blinked at her.  He didn’t mind so much, really - he’d still be awake now anyway - but he didn’t think she’s appreciate that little fact.

Draco scoffed at her, waving the Astronomy assignment he’d just completed in her direction.  “Lighten up, Pansy.  It’s barely past midnight.  I know you need your beauty sleep, but you’ve been going on the whole night.”

Glaring, Pansy pushed Draco on the shoulder, making him stumble slightly.  “First you make me come with you on this stupid adventure, and now you insult me?  Wonderful job, Malfoy.  Truly you have a way with people.”  Her sneer matched the one Draco used regularly.

“Guys...” Harry groaned.  He was sick of both of them at this point - Draco had whined until they came with him to complete the homework he and Pansy had done nearly a week ago, and now Pansy had spent the entire time complaining.  Not only that, but their argument was getting progressively louder, and it was way past curfew.  “Would you keep it down at least?”  

Both of them glared at him, not appreciating his exasperation in the least.  Before they could resume, a quiet ‘meow’ interrupted them, and all three turned with dawning horror to see Mrs. Norris standing in their way, tail swishing in a way that somehow came off viciously pleased.  She kept on making noise, getting louder with every meow, and soon they could hear the limping sound of Filch’s uneven gait.

Too frightened to even scream, the three of them dashed frantically up the nearest staircase, and halfway up the next before it started moving.  Filch’s voice was closer now, and without paying attention to where they were, the First Years dashed into the door in front of them, which closed with a thankfully quiet ‘thud’.  Once passed the door, they spared a moment to trade fearful looks before they split up, each finding their own dark corner.

The door opened and Filch limped into the room, chatting at his cat about the awful things he would do to any students he found.  Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing, not even daring to turn and look to see where the man was.  Eventually the caretaker gave up with a few dark words and ducked back out the door.  Waiting a second to make sure the man was gone, Harry gave a sigh of relief and slipped out of his hiding spot, spotting Draco and Pansy as they did the same.

Now that the panic had left them, the First Years took a minute to look around and figure out where they were.  Pansy gasped suddenly, eyes going wide.  “This is the third floor!  Dumbledore told us not to go in here!”

Draco’s eyes lit up and he nodded in agreement.  “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?  Let’s take a look around.”

“Are you mad?”  Pansy hissed at him.  “You heard the Headmaster!  He said that we could die a horrible death in here!”

A snort answered her panic.  “Oh, please.  That man is as loony as they come.  Besides, whatever is here has got to be worth finding.  You don’t ban people from someplace unless it’s got something really interesting hidden there.”  His grey eyes glimmered.  “Maybe they’ve got some sort of treasure here.”

Pansy made an uncomfortable noise, and both turned to gaze at Harry.  He had no desire to go poking around some dark corridor that might or might not be dangerous, but for every second he didn’t agree with Draco, the other boy’s eyes dimmed and an expression of disappointment and disdain crept up his face.  Finally, Harry shrugged.  “No harm in looking around, right?”

A grin from Draco and a scowl from Pansy were his reward, and the blonde dashed further down the hallway to a door on the far end.  He tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn.  Draco frowned at it for a moment before his face lit up, and he pulled out his wand with a flourish.  He turned to look at Pansy and Harry as they caught up with him.  “I’ve seen my parents do this one a hundred times.”  He flicked his wand at front of the door and carefully pronounced ‘Alohomora’.  The lock clicked, and Draco pushed open the door with a powerful motion.

A three-headed dog was the very last thing Harry had expected.  The creature had been sleeping, but the door crashing open woke it, and it strained towards them with snarling, snapping jaws, and the slobber from the middle head managed to fly all the way to the children.  As one the First Years screamed, and the panicked flails from Draco managed to knock Harry flat before the other two bolted back into the hallway.  The dog’s heads growled fiercely, and it’s paws stamped against a little trap door that Harry would have completely missed if he wasn’t flat on his stomach.  He scrambled up and grabbed the door, slamming it shut on the dog.  

Panting with fright, he turned around, only to be enveloped in a hug.  Draco pulled away quickly and started patting him down.  “Did it get you?  Are you hurt?”  Upon finding no injuries, the boy sighed and stepped away, only for Pansy to replace him and hug Harry tightly.  

“Merlin, that was so scary!”  She squawked in his ear, and Harry fought the urge to cover it as he nodded in agreement.

Thoroughly shaken, the First Years quickly made their way down to the dungeons, thankfully running into no more interruptions.  Once they entered the Common Room, Draco collapsed dramatically on the sofa, pulling the crinkled mess of his Astronomy homework out of his pocket.  

Harry fell backwards into one of the chairs, still feeling slightly shaky.  “What was that?”

“A Cerberus!”  Pansy told him with a shudder.  “Great brutes, they are.  Vicious things.  Who decided it would be a good idea to have one of those in a  _school_?”

“The headmaster, clearly.”  Draco said, his voice muffled by the pillow his face was stuffed into.  He turned his head to look at the other two.  “I told you he was barmy.”

Shrugging, Harry replied, “Maybe not.”  He quickly described the door he’d spotted, and Draco’s eyes began to light up again. 

Draco sat up, brushing his fair hair out of his eyes.  “I knew he was hiding something!”

A push knocked him back over, and Pansy huffed at him.  “Not a chance, Draco Malfoy!  Your stupid ideas nearly got us  _killed_ tonight.”  She turned on her heel and started up towards the dorms.  Harry wasn’t completely ready to move yet, and let his eyes trace the carvings on the fireplace.  There was one particularly frightening depiction of a dragon, and he wondered vaguely if what Hagrid said about them being ‘misunderstood’ was right...

Wait.

“Pansy!”  He called, sitting up straighter.  “Remember what I said, about Hagrid getting that package from the vault that was broken into?  What if that is what’s hidden?”

Draco peered at him from the couch.  “How big was this package?”

Shrugging, Harry cupped his hand.  “About this size?”

A groan came from the other boy.  “That’s it?  Ugh, that’s not worth the effort at all.”

Pansy on the other hand looked intrigued.  “That does make sense.”  She murmured, eyes distant.  “Maybe Hagrid knows more about what it is, since he got it.”

“Yeah, we should go talk to him.”  Harry nodded, starting to get into the idea.  It was a mystery, like the novels he would nick from his Aunt.  Both Pansy and Draco looked rather disdainful of the idea of speaking to the huge man, but neither objected.

Their business concluded for the night, they adjourned to their beds, visions of dragons and goblins invading Harry’s dreams.


	6. Float Like a Feather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-graphic reference to past violence

The next day they managed to make it to Hagrid’s after lunch between bouts of homework and attempting to enjoy the weekend as it faded away. They had spent a considerable amount of time talking with him, and after a while, Harry noticed Draco had warmed up to the half-giant, but politely kept declining tea (Harry couldn’t blame him). They had tried to ease into the conversation and drop hints about the break in, or what could have been in the vault, but it had proved fruitless. 

Pansy patted at Fang, he was a nice enough dog even if he did drool all over her robes. “Hagrid,” she started, her voice lilting upwards to gather the man’s attention, “why is there a Cerebus on the third floor?”

“Wha’?” Hagrid had replied, staring out at her disbelievingly from under his bushy eyebrows. “How’d yeh know ‘bout Fluffy?”

“Fluffy?” Draco echoed, laughing a bit. “That’s thing has name?”

“‘Course he does! He’s mine, ain’t he? Gotta have a name!” Hagrid puffed his chest out proudly, like a doting parent. “”specially if he’s doin’ such an important job for Dumbledore.”

“He’s... guarding something isn’t he?” Harry ventured. “That thing you got the day we went to Gringotts.”

“Yes’sir! A very important job indeed. Guardin’ something for a friend, some guy named Flamel.” Hagrid took a large swallow of his tea and lowered it, sinking back into his chair as Harry, Draco and Pansy looked amongst each other excitedly. “I should’t ta said tha’.” 

“Don’t worry, Hagrid,” Harry assured, patting the man on the arm. “We won’t tell anyone.” 

“Well, we best be going,” Draco started, sliding up from his chair, quickly followed by Pansy. “It was nice talking to you, Hagrid.”

“Bye Hagrid, I’ll visit you soon, I promi--” Harry was hauled out of the hut by Draco and stumbled down the steps. “Well that was rude.”

“We got what we came for.”

They started trudging back up the steep hill towards the castle and Draco looked at Pansy. “Do you know anyone named Flamel?”

She shook her head, panting as they reached the top and headed for the doors to the courtyard. “No, do you?”

Both Draco and Harry shook their heads as they headed inside and down to the dungeons, their minds swirling with new information. 

“After we finish our homework, we should head to the Library, then maybe we could start looking.” Harry gulped in air as they reached the wall entrance to the Common Room and took a few deep breaths. “Sanguine.” The wall trembled and the bricks slid apart, moving similarly to the archway into Diagon Alley before the three of them passed inside, ready to get down to work.

Several hours later, Harry and Draco had retired to their room, arms filled with books they had borrowed from the library. Books they were currently hunched over. 

“I can’t figure any of this out.” Draco flopped down on his bed, the large history tome open beside him. They had tried checking random historical books out of the library in an attempt that with the lack of pattern one of them would get lucky and find information on the “Flamel” person. So far, none of them were having any luck. 

“I think I’ve learned more in the past four hours about myself than anything.” Harry pushed his glasses up and slammed his copy of Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century shut and placed it on the floor. “Do we really have to do this?”

“I want to know what that - Fluffy - is guarding! Don’t you? If it’s so small that it could fit in your hand but worth being guarded by a bloody three-headed dog, it must be important. And powerful. And expensive.”

Harry rolled his eyes. There was whining, brat Draco, rearing his ugly head. “Alright, alright. But I’m not going to fail my classes because of this.”

Draco nodded his head. “Deal. Alright, I’m going to shower and change.”

Harry raised a hand in a wave and watched Draco gather his things before starting out of the room to the bathrooms. Harry flopped back against his pillows and closed his eyes, before he knew it, he was sleeping. 

~*~

Breakfast was a flurry of activity as people scrambled to finish last minute homework, or got letters from home. Draco was tiredly scribbling his Astronomy notes from a mixture of Blaise’s, Pansy’s and some other boy in their year named Nott. Harry shook his head, it was due as soon as breakfast was over. Leave it to Draco to finish it at the very last second. 

“Owls!” Flint barked as a warning as the Hall flooded and packages and letters rained down from the ceiling enchanted to look like the clear blue morning sky. 

“Incoming!” A few voices down the table called and Harry rose his head up curiously to see what was getting everyone so worked up. 

Three owls, clutching to a large, awkwardly wrapped package were barreling their way down the table, barely missing the tops of people’s heads. Harry recognized Hedwig as one of the owls and the second one was Draco’s owl Titan. Harry shot up from the bench when he saw their talons release the package and caught it. Titan circled Draco before fluttering to the table and pecked interestedly at the crumbs on his plate. 

“Well,” Draco prompted, looking at Harry. “What is it?” He gestured to the side of the package. “It’s got your name on it.”

“For me?” Harry was astonished. Someone had sent him a gift? He knew that Draco’s mother was planning on sending him some sweets, but this definitely didn’t look like candy. He unwrapped it curiously and his eyes widened at the sight of the smooth, polished wooden handle and neatly bundled bristles. Nimbus 2000 glinted in gold lettering on the tip of the handle and Harry ran his hands over it reverently. 

“It’s got a letter.” Pansy held it up, eyeing the broom with barely concealed jealousy. 

Harry sat back down and opened the letter. “Dear Mr. Potter, Draco has owled me and told me that you earned a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team - youngest seeker in a century. Since it is such a rare feat, and with the knowledge that those Muggle guardians of yours would never aid you in your progress, I took it upon myself. With regards, Narcissa Malfoy.” Harry looked over the letter, his throat feeling suddenly very tight. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw himself across the table and hug Draco and thank him for his friendship. He wanted to slide under the table and disappear. He sucked in a sharp breath and offered up a shaking, wan smile and folded up the letter. “Thanks, Draco.”

“Don’t thank me, I just told her you were on the team, the broom was her idea. ‘Course, I did say that you probably wouldn’t win us the House Cup playing on the schools Cleansweeps, but...” 

Harry laughed, forcing it to sound casual and he folded up the letter and tucked it into his robes before he moved the broom carefully under the bench and finished his breakfast. 

Nearly two months passed in much the same manner, and when Harry, Draco and Pansy managed to get time in between their classes and Harry’s practices, they searched through the library for a mention of the mysterious Flamel, but with no luck. Finally, interest at a record low, they had decided to give it a rest. Honestly, the mystery of it all just wasn’t worth the hours of effort they’d put into it.

Besides, now they had something new to focus on - Halloween. The holiday itself didn’t seem to mean much more to the Wizarding World than it did to the Muggle one - mostly just an excuse to eat way too much candy and put up ‘spooky’ decorations. Draco and Pansy had mentioned something about spirits and the dead, but it had seemed more like superstition than anything.

Draco and Harry were currently seated at the Slytherin table. The blonde kept trying to reach up and smack the Jack-O-Lanterns that were floating above their heads, but whenever he managed to reach up high enough the pumpkin would jerk a few inches higher, out of his range. Embarrassed by the attention they were getting for it - which honestly might have been Draco’s reason for doing so in the first place - Harry grabbed his arm and yanked it down between them, wrapping his hand around the other’s wrist to keep it there.

A wounded look rewarded his troubles, and Draco seemed ready to start a fit. Luckily, before he could do so, Pansy sat down on Harry’s other side, looking distinctly pleased with herself. Distracted, the taller boy arched an eyebrow at her. “Why are you looking so happy?”

“I can’t just be excited for Halloween?” Pansy’s voice was slightly higher than normal and she fluttered he eyelashes at the two boys. Two deadpan stares looked back at her, and she sighed like they weren’t worth the effort she invested in them. “Alright, fine. There’s a rumor about the Granger girl going around. Apparently she’s in the loo, crying her eyes out over a comment made by Weasley.” Her smile was rather predatory. “You can’t make up quality stuff like that. There’s just so many wonderful ways you can go with information like that.” A dreamy sigh escaped her and she bit into a piece of hard candy with a crunch.

Harry frowned at her. “Pansy, why do you keep spreading rumors like that?”

Rolling her eyes, the girl grabbed a lollipop and pointed it at him. “‘Control the information and you control the people.’ That’s what my Mum says,” Pansy’s mother was one of the Editors for The Daily Prophet. “If I’m the one to spread the information, I know what everyone else knows. Besides, Granger had it coming for being such a know-it-all.”

It was that kind of thinking that Harry was still getting used to. It was the sort of rationale that he had used when avoiding the wrath of his relatives, or for getting out of trouble whenever he got blamed by Dudley at Primary, but seeing it used in normal situations still tended to knock him off balance. He still didn’t like it. Hermione could be annoying in that she simply couldn’t let anything go, especially rule breaking or anything she deemed ‘wrong’, but she didn’t deserve to be brought to tears, or for people to be spreading rumors about it. Still, she wasn’t his responsibility, and whatever he said to Pansy wasn’t going to stop her. He’d rather not make waves with his friends than fight a pointless battle.

Grabbing himself something substantial to eat, rather than just candy, Harry began to dig into his meal. At first the sound of a loud crash and increased chattering didn’t gain his attention - such things were common from the Gryffindor table alone - but when the noise didn’t die down, he turned to look. Quirrell was running like he had Fluffy right behind him, more rumpled than Harry had ever seen him. The professor yelled something about a troll right before he dropped down in a dead faint.

Panic broke out in the Great Hall for one long moment. Draco started screaming so hard his face went red, and Pansy grabbed onto his arm and dug her fingernails in like claws. Dumbledore began casting bright purple sparks that made huge crashing noises like fireworks, and soon everyone calmed down enough to listen to him.

The prefects were given orders to take the students to their respective Common Rooms. Rising, Draco, Harry and Pansy let themselves be corralled with the others, despite various students muttering about how they were being sent to the dungeons where that’s where the troll had last been sighted.

Suddenly, an awful thought struck him, and Harry made to dash down the hall, only for Draco to reach out and grab his robes before he got anywhere. The shorter boy turned to look at him and was met by a pair of furious gray eyes. “Are you mad? Where do you think you’re going?” Draco snapped at him.

“Hermione doesn’t know about the troll.” Harry told him, and made to go again. The grip on his robes remained firm and Draco tugged them to bring him stumbling back.

“So what?” Draco could tell that Harry found that reply disdainful and quickly backtracked. “All I’m saying is that it makes no sense for us to run after her! The troll is supposed to be in the dungeons, remember, not in the girl’s loo. What makes you think she’d even believe you - we’re Slytherins, after all.” The boy rolled his eyes, and something caught his attention during the motion. He craned his neck around to see better, and Harry whirled around in time to catch sight of Ron and Neville dashing down the hall. They both looked rather frightened - Ron’s face was so pale Harry could see his freckles from here. “Look, those two have got her. Can we go now?” Nodding reluctantly, Harry let Draco pull him backwards until the caught up with the rest of their House.

There was no sign of the troll on the way to the Common Room, but the dungeons were the kind of twisty place where something could easily sneak up on you through one corner or another, and so the students remained wary the entire trek. Even once they had entered, no one relaxed, instead waiting around in tense little groups. Only quiet murmurs could be heard, as every ear strained for the sounds of danger. It wasn’t so much that they thought the troll could get in - the troll certainly didn’t have the password, or the mental capabilities necessary to use it - but the very idea of such a large threat running around so near was terrifying. 

Harry spent a good portion of the time worrying about the Gryffindors as well. He wanted to believe that they’d gotten back to their dorms safely, but the image of them being thrown around by the giant monster kept passing behind his eyes, making him shudder.

After nearly an hour, the passage opened and Professor Snape made his way into the room with just the slightest hint of a limp. “The troll has been handled.” He announced, and there was an audible sigh of relief. “However, the professors and I will be doing a thorough search of the premises, so unless you wish to be in more trouble than you can imagine, you will stay in your dorms.” Dark eyes narrowed, and several head around the room nodded compulsively. “Very well. Carry on.” The majority of the students got up and headed towards their respective beds, exhausted by the emotional turmoil they’d experienced. Harry made to do the same, but Professor Snape caught his eye and he walked up to the man.

For a moment, Snape stared at him, eyes far away. But he quickly mastered himself and spoke. “As you finished the book last Saturday, for this upcoming session you are to bring your cauldron. Understood, Mr. Potter?” 

“Sir...” Harry trailed off, gazing up at his professor. He now had one of the best grasps on the material in his class - Draco’s background and Hermione’s sheer volume of knowledge still outdid him - so surely the man was sick of his presence by now. He opened his mouth to protest, but the professor’s words about only giving offers he meant stopped him. Instead Harry smiled up at his professor and told him, “Thank you.”

A brief - very brief - moment of approval passed over Snape’s features and he nodded at the boy. “Same time as usual.” He told him before sweeping out the door, gait still off.

Harry was left blinking at the door, heart just slightly warmed.

~*~

Harry woke the next day to the sound of excited chattering. It was the first weekend of November, meaning the first Quidditch match of the season - Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Harry rolled out of bed and showered before changing into his robes, laying his Quidditch robes out on his bed with a nervous anticipation. He stared down at them, silver and green shining against the black bedspread and swallowed thickly. What if he fell off his broom? What if they lost the match? What if they lost because of him?

“C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.”

Harry let Draco drag him through the halls and into the Great Hall, which was buzzing with chatter. Students were making bets on various outcomes, and possible injuries. Harry heard his name in correlation with a bludger to the head more times than he felt comfortable with. He groaned as he sunk into his spot on the bench across from Pansy and next to Draco as a plate full of sausages, beans, eggs, chips and toast was dropped in front of him. 

“A proper meal for a proper Quidditch player.” 

Harry eyed Pansy, scowling at her obnoxious, overly sunny smile and looked down at his plate, feeling his stomach turn. “I don’t think I can eat anything.”

Pansy shoved the plate hard towards him, nearly jostling the food onto his lap with the force. “Harry Potter, you will eat your special breakfast and you will like it and you will do so to win against those bloody lions or I’ll hex you so hard your head will explode!”

Harry groaned lightly but picked up his toast and pierced his eggs before mixing the runny yolk in with his beans and took a bite. “I really hate you.”

Pansy’s smile grew even brighter over her copy of the weekend Prophet. “I know.”

After breakfast they returned to the Common Room, where Draco raced over to a couple sitting primly on the couches. He launched himself against a woman and wrapped his arms around her neck. Harry stopped short and took in the sight of the woman with white hair and steel blue eyes; she was dressed in elegant robes and perched with perfect posture next to a man with similar white-blonde hair and deep grey eyes. They had the same elongated, angular faces as Draco. As Harry watched them from a distance for a long moment he felt his heart twist in a painful ache of longing before he forced the feeling down and painted a smile onto his face. 

“You must be Draco’s father and mother,” he introduced, striding up to them and offered his hand. “Harry Potter.”

Draco’s father peered at the outstretched hand a moment before he closed his own around it and shook in a firm but relaxed shake. “Lucius Malfoy.” 

“A pleasure, sir.” 

Before Harry had the chance to turn and introduce himself to the Malfoy matriarch slim, long, nimble fingers cradled against his cheeks and hard, strong thumbs pressed under his chin and he was yanked slightly with a half muffled - “urk!” towards Draco’s mother. Her eyes peered into his own, her lips pressed in a thin, musing line as she studied his face. One of her hands smoothed up his cheek and moved his messy fringe from his eyes and stared hard at the lightning shaped scar on his forehead before travelling over his face again. Harry swallowed and did his best to meet her eyes and not to squirm under her cool inspection. Her hands dropped from his face and wrapped around his shoulders and he was pulled against her willowy form in a hug. 

“Draco’s told us so much about you, dear. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Harry’s hands were trapped between them and he fidgeted a moment, unsure of what to do with them or where to put them before he finally dropped them uselessly against his sides. His glasses were pressing rather painfully into the bridge of his nose as he was crushed against her chest, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. She smelled comforting, and luxurious, like some mixture of vanilla and mint and faint traces of talcum powder. Harry closed his eyes and fought the urge to inhale deeply and burrow against her and stay in her embrace. 

Finally he was released and Harry swayed on his feet a moment before straightening. He righted his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair, no doubt ruffling his hair worse than it had been previously. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Oh, Narcissa, please. If you’re going to be around me thanks to Draco I don’t want to hear any of this ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Mrs. Malfoy’ business. It makes a woman feel  _old_.”

Harry laughed a little and scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “Well... I’ll let you three catch up, I need to go change.” Before anyone could say otherwise, Harry was bounding down the hallway towards the freedom of his room as fast as he could.

He dawdled while changing, partially due to nervousness and partially due to not wanting to intrude on the Malfoys - and Pansy’s - discussions. It wasn’t his world as a displaced wizard, let alone one who... well... He had a part in the downfall of You-Know-Who, and though he and Draco didn’t really talk about it, his family had put some stake into that claim. Also, Harry had always found families, especially mothers, hard to be around. 

He pushed the phantom scream of his name and the flash of green light out of his mind as he pulled his robes over his head and knotted up his boots and protective gear. With a deep breath, Harry marched out of his dormitory and back towards the Common Room. 

“Well! Don’t you look stunning! Doesn’t he make a picture, Lucius?”

“I’ll say.” 

“Have you been out on your Nimbus? Does it fly well? It’s been ages since I’ve flown. I Apparate, of course, much faster.”

“It’s great, thanks for getting it for me.”

“No trouble.” Narcissa elbowed Lucius when he made a quiet cough and smiled back towards Harry. “Now, let’s get you down to the pitch, shall we?”

Harry nodded a little and shouldered his Nimbus 2000 in its special broomcase and they all headed down to the pitch, chattering amongst themselves.


	7. Stings Like a B****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to past violence

Harry met with the rest of the team in the locker room, sitting nervously on one of the benches as Flint prowled around them like an angry bear.  None of the other players looked particularly nervous - all of them had played the year before - and but instead looked fiercely excited.

“I know you lot are ready to go out and show those lions the new tricks we’ve learned.”  Filch growled out, and the team perked up and traded vicious looks.   “But pull back this time, alright?”   That earned him frowns and a few protests.  “Oh, shut your damned mouths.  It’s only Gryffindor - I don’t want you wasting our new strategies on such a pathetic team.  They haven’t won more than a game in a decade, and Wood’s got more enthusiasm than brains.   Best save our tricks for Ravenclaw - they’ve got a new Seeker as well, and she looks like she actually knows how to use her brain.”  That got him some snorts.  Of course the Ravenclaw could fight smart.  Flint frowned at them and they shut up.  “Now go kick their asses!  If you lot don’t win by a landslide I will having you doing laps until you drop dead of exhaustion, you got that?”  Cheers were his response and he motioned for them to line up.  

Harry followed, silent and feeling sick, before Flint grabbed his shoulder and dragged him a couple of steps off.   Looking him straight in the eye, Flint patted him on the shoulder like he was trying to comfort the smaller boy, but only succeeded in knocking him around a bit.  “Potter, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.  Can’t have you messing up now, can we?  Besides, those twins are going to be on your ass the entire time, and I didn’t waste all that effort training you up just to have you broken in your first game.”  He patted Harry again and turned to join the rest of the team.

For a moment Harry stood there, wondering what this House was doing to him so that speech actually sounded comforting.  Then his musings were interrupted by the sound of the team getting called out, and he ran to catch up, mounting his broom and soaring up.  Nearly three quarters of the school seemed to be booing, having thrown their lot in with Gryffindor.  However, he could see small pockets of cheers within the other Houses - Ron looked like he was carrying a small Slytherin flag, though it was nearly covered by the various red and gold items and clothing articles he had.  He still gave a little wave, and the tiny flag got waggled at him in response.

Madame Hooch came out and gave a quick warning about fair play, directed near directly at Flint, who merely smirked at her and then Wood.   Then the balls were released and Harry couldn’t see anything but blurs of color.  He tried to watch the snitch, ignoring the sound of Lee Jordan’s commentary as the game began, but the little glint of gold quickly darted out of view.

He rose above the pitch, circling slowly, watching the game unravel in fascination.  He’d seen pictures of the game, but nothing compared to the thrum of adrenaline and the graceful moves of the players in action.  He saw Flint glare at him and focused back on his task, twisting this way and that as he searched for the Snitch.

The Gryffindor Seeker, a gangly brunette 5th year who looked too long for his broom, was tracking him, deciding it was easier to simply follow Harry than to try and find it on his own.  The smaller boy thought about pointing out to him how utterly un-House-like that seemed, but figured his advice would only be sneered at.  Instead he put on a burst of speed straight up, grinning as the other boy followed, and then did a tight loop and started going almost straight down, enjoying the feel of the forces at play and the whipping wind.   The other Seeker tried to follow him, but just ended up nearly falling off his broom, and stayed a good bit farther away from Harry afterwards.

He could hear Jordan saying something about sneaky moves, but he wasn’t sure if the boy was talking about him or another Slytherin and didn’t really care.  Instead he slowly tracked around the pitch, getting slightly frustrated at the lack of any sign of the ball.  Of course, it was much harder to see it with all the motion distracting him, but normally he’d caught at least a hint of the thing before now.

He turned and flew back towards his teams side of the pitch, just slightly above the hoops, hoping that the new angle would help him, and knowing the twins would be more reluctant to send a Bludger this way - they could interrupt their Chasers trying to make a goal, or simply send the dangerous ball right into the hands of his own team’s Beaters.  

When no glint because visible, Harry started to fly back up, only to feel the broom jerk in his grasp.  He gripped tighter on the handle and looked down at it, confused, and nearly tumbled over when it moved again, this time with a stronger motion.  Soon it was bucking, completely wild, and he had to cling with all his might to keep from losing his grip.

There was gasping as people started to see his struggles, and he heard Jordan claim that he’d lost control of his broom, but it was just all a part of the blur of sensation that had become his world.  Harry could feel his grip slipping and a small, dramatic part of his brain that sounded a bit like Draco began reciting goodbyes to the world.

Just as one hand finally slipped off the broom and Harry felt himself tumble sideways, a huge hand grabbed onto him and Harry was lifted bodily off the broom and over Flint’s shoulders.  The captain had grabbed onto Harry’s broom, where it continued to wriggle in his grasp like it wanted to become a snake and slither away.   He struggled with it one-handed for a moment, muscles bulging and holding the broom as steady as possible, but his head was looking around at the audiences, finally pausing at the teacher’s booth, where the Malfoys also were.  Though he couldn’t see who Flint was looking at precisely - Flint’s huge back blocked his view - Harry felt his face heat with shame.  What a way to be introduced to Draco’s parents, and to thank them for the broom.

Running out of patience, Flint maneuvered Harry so that he was securely on the older boy’s broom in front of the captain.  The he reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, murmuring a few spells which Harry figured cancelled jinxes or curses.  Finally it stopped bucking, settling down and acting normal.  Harry swung onto his like a monkey, pulling himself up easily, and Flint nodded at him and went back to the hoops, which thankfully no one had tried for while they were incapacitated - there was a good side to going against the Gryffindors after all.  

Harry glanced at Madam Hooch, who was blinking in shock with the whistle in her mouth ready to blow, and gave her a thumbs up.  She weakly returned the gesture.  Nodding once more at her, Harry soared up higher as the game renewed, this time catching sight of the Snitch almost instantly.  Instead of dashing after it, he took a look around for the Gryffindor Seeker, spotting the boy slightly closer to the ball, but looking in the opposite direction.  He was now not paying attention to Harry at all and keeping well away, as if afraid bucking brooms were contagious.  Taking that little advantage, Harry drifted closer to the Snitch, keeping a close eye on it while looking as unexcited as possible.

Once the distance between them was equal, Harry shot forward, following the Snitch’s trail.  The other boy noticed quickly and dashed after, his experience making up for Harry’s superior broom.  The two were side-by-side for one dramatic moment, running along the grass of the pitch, when the tiny gold ball darted sideways towards Harry.  He reached out for it, feeling his fingers run along it’s edges, but then had the sickening feeling of pitching forward as the other Seeker over-adjusted and slammed into him, sending him flying forward and crashing into the ground.  

Silence descended upon the pitch as everyone waited to see how damaged he was.  Harry sat up slowly, feeling achy and most definitely bruised but not like anything had broken.  Instead there was something in his mouth, and he spat it out, grabbing the Snitch before it could take advantage of its new found freedom and raised it up in the air.

The Slytherin stands went wild, followed slightly later and less enthusiastically by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.  There was polite, disappointed clapping from the Gryffindors, who couldn’t really complain, seeing as how Flint’s team had played a remarkably clean game.

Flint landed next to him and gave him a hard, congratulatory pat on the back, which nearly sent Harry sprawling back on the ground.  Harry’s eyes searched out Draco and Pansy, who were clapping and waving wildly and grinned.

“Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Slytherin wins!” 

After a hot shower Harry changed back into his usual robes and exited the locker room with exhausted pleasure. Pansy, Draco, and Ron were waiting for him. Harry had to admit, seeing Ron there, looking so relaxed, while also slightly perturbed in his red and gold next to his Housemates made him feel fuzzy. 

“Alright?” Ron asked, his face flushed pink with excitement.

“Yeah.” Harry offered back, grinning. “How’d I do for my first game.”

“Brilliant!” Pansy thumped him on the back and looped her arm with his. “A little unorthodox, though. I don’t think anyone’s caught the snitch in their  _mouth_  before.”

“I don’t think that was his plan,” Draco laughed, rolling his eyes at Pansy. “It was amazing is what it was. Not to mention six Ravenclaws owe me for us winning that game!”

Harry snorted. “Glad I could service your financial needs, Draco.”

“Anyway, I should get back to the Tower. People already sent a few stinging jinxes after me for supporting you.” Ron rose a shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever, you’re way better than our Seeker anyway, just... don’t tell them I said that.”

Harry watched as Ron headed off with a wave before he, Draco and Pansy headed towards their own Common Room. “Did your parents go home?”

“Yeah. They wanted to tell you that you did a good job and they’re sorry they couldn’t celebrate with you but my dad has a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Harry,” Pansy questioned as they headed down the stairs into the dungeons, “what happened with your broom?”

“Dunno. First game jitters? Maybe I was cursing it with my nervousness?”

“We were awfully worried. You could have fallen!” 

Harry smiled at Pansy and patted her arm, squeezing in assurance. “I’m safe, so you don’t need to worry a single hair on your head.”

Pansy gave an over dramatic sigh and rested her head on his shoulder and the three of them burst into laughter as they walked into their Common Room. Cheers exploded and confetti rained down and sparks shot out from wands. Harry dropped onto a couch, flanked by Pansy and Draco and took a bunch of galleons and sickles thrust his way as reward and thanks from people who betted on him. Waves of chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts came along with cheers and pats on the back. It was all a little much. 

Harry laughed as he bit into a chocolate frog and crunched down, humming happily. He could get used to this! He grabbed a yellow bean from the box Pansy wrestled open and bit into it hesitantly before popping the rest into his mouth when he found out it tasted of popcorn. Across the room he saw a fourth year boy snorting smoke and breathing flame and his eyebrows rose. 

“What is that? A charm?”

“He’s probably got some Pepper Imps.” Pansy chewed on a bean before making a fance but forced herself to swallow it. “Eugh! Tripe!” She took a drink of pumpkin juice to erase the taste. “They’re a Wizarding candy. They’re sold in a few shops, and pretty good.”

“D’you think he’d let me have one?”

“Harry,” Draco drawled, sucking on some kind of lolly, “you are  _Harry Potter_. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. And besides, you just won the first game of the season.” With that, Draco shoved him up off the couch and towards the other boy. 

A minute later Harry dropped back into his spot, chewing on the peppermint candy. It was so ice-cool it was hot, and several seconds later smoke was curling at the edges of his mouth. He exhaled and his brows rose in wonder as a small, harmless, bright scarlet jet of flame left his lips. Magic. Was. Awesome.

“Potter, a word?”

Harry looked up at Flint, who looked displeased and a frown creased Harry’s brow but he nodded and stood as the last of the candy’s effects wore off. He trailed behind Flint to a dorm room and was tugged inside. It was empty and Harry’s eyes searched about. He figured it was Flint’s, since he didn’t recognize anything. 

“What’s going on?”

“I thought you’d like to know who was bewitching your broom during the game today.”

Harry’s brows shot up. “Someone was bewitching my broom?”

Flint nodded once, sharply. “It was Snape. He was muttering under his breath the whole while your broom was going mad.”

Harry froze, his body going numb, and he watched in shock as Marcus turned around and returned to the party as casually as if he had just reported the weather.

~*~

The day found Harry waiting in front of Snape’s door, feeling a nauseating mix of fear, confusion and betrayal.  He wasn’t even entirely sure why we was here - Draco and Pansy had told him in no uncertain terms that they felt he should just skip the meeting and stay safe in the dorms.  Pansy had even offered to forge a letter by him (how she even knew how to do that, Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know) saying that he was sick and couldn’t come.

But Harry thought there had to be some Gryffindor in him from his parents, because he couldn’t do it.  He had to know what the professor had been doing.  After all, the man had plenty of chances to kill him nearly every week - why would he suddenly want Harry dead during the game?

 _Maybe_ , a part of him suggested,  _he was waiting to for a chance where the blame couldn’t be put on him.  After all, it would look really suspicious if you died in his chambers, wouldn’t it?  Especially when you were only supposed to be reading.  But if you were making a potion and there was an accident..._

Harry gulped and looked down at the cauldron he was carrying and shifted uncomfortably.  He’d just have to be careful, was all.  Steeling himself, Harry shuffled the cauldron into one hand and awkwardly reached out and knocked at the door.  It opened immediately, and as he stepped through Harry could see Snape sitting at his desk with his wand out.  He fought back an instinctive flinch and instead studied the man’s face.  Really, he didn’t look more than vaguely irritated - Harry was probably a few minutes late, what with how he’d waited outside for so long.  Then again, even after all the one-on-one time he’d spent with the man, Harry still had trouble reading even a little bit into his expressions.

“Take a seat, Mr. Potter,”  Snape drawled, standing slowly.  Harry nodded and made his way over to his normal spot, which now had a desk next to it.  He dumped the cauldron onto it and carefully watched the professor as he went to a cabinet and began picking out ingredients.  He gazed back at Harry.  “If you would, grab the book I have been letting you read from the shelves and turn to page 248.”  

Nodding slowly, Harry got up and reluctantly made his way over to the shelf.  He gently eased the book out, wary that it was somehow booby-trapped.  Honestly, it was kind of stupid of him - why kill him with a shelf when there was going to be a cauldron full of possibly dangerous liquid - but he couldn’t help feeling on edge.  When the book came out with no problems Harry resisted the urge to sigh with relief and made his way back over to the desk, flipping through the pages as he did so.   

Page 248 turned out to be a Boil Cure Potion, and Harry frowned at it.  That wasn’t a dangerous potion at all - they’d done it in the very first Potions class.  He glanced up as his professor, who was coming back with an armful of ingredients.  Snape caught his expression and arched an eyebrow.  “The Boil Cure Potion used today is a newer recipe - the one you see before you is from several decades ago, and is somewhat more tricky.”  The last word was drawled out, his voice ever so slightly dark, and Harry’s eyes widened.  “You should be alright, provided you are not...distracted.”  He paused to give Harry a significant look, and the boy realized that he’d been unusually quiet so far.  

Forcing a small smile on his face, Harry looked up into the man’s eyes.  “Sorry, Sir.  I’m just a bit shaken up from yesterday.”

Snape’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, and black eyes gazed intently into green ones.  “That is quite understandable, Mr. Potter.  I suppose I’ll just have to keep my eye on you, to prevent any accidents.”

This time Harry gulped audibly, and he nodded a bit, hoping that his professor would simply think it nerves.  Watching Snape out of the corner of his eye, Harry began prepping the ingredients.  He recognized a few combinations that could be explosive in the right conditions and felt his nervousness spike up.

About halfway through the potion, Snape spoke up.  “Be careful in adding the next ingredient.  This step can get rather dangerous.”  His voice was silky and his eyes stared intently at the top of Harry’s head.

Unable to take it anymore, Harry turned off the heat with a wave of his wand and stumbled away from the cauldron, feeling his heart pounding in his throat.  Snape snapped out a, “Mr. Potter?”, sounding equal parts confused and angry, and he whirled to look him in the eye.

“Why did you do it?”  He demanded, taking all the bravery and bravado he had and putting it up as a front so he didn’t look as terrified as he felt.  “Why did you curse my broom?”

Snape gaped - actually gaped - at him.  “How dare you-”

Shaking his head, Harry took a cautious step backwards toward the door.  “Flint saw you!  He saw you casting when he came and got me.”  Taking another step backward, he straightened his back.  “So why do you want me dead, Professor?”

The man’s shock gave way to anger, and his finger’s dug into his desk - and kept away from his wand, Harry carefully noted.  “You ungrateful brat!”  The professor snarled.  “I was trying to  _save_  you!”  Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off by a wave of the professor’s hand.  “I wasn’t casting the curse - I was casting the counter!  I was trying to keep you from falling to your death, stupid boy!  Did you ever think of that?”

“No, I didn’t.”  Harry returned, quite angry himself.  “Because I have a lot of enemies, don’t I, Professor?  Whatever happened on that Halloween night, as far as I’m concerned all it did was make me an orphan and the number one target of loads of really terrifying people.”  He tensed up and took one more step back so that he was just a second away from the door.  “So tell me, what reason could you possibly have to want me alive?”

Snape blinked at him, and then scowled.  “My reasons are my own, Potter!   I have no reason to need to justify myself to you.”

“Yes, you do!  This is my  _life_.”  Harry was aware that he was pushing it, but couldn’t bring himself to care.  “So far as I’m concerned, anyone who doesn’t have a reason for me to be alive wants me dead.   Unless you can tell me  _why_  you would cast the counter...”  He trailed off, not sure how to finish that...threat?  Plea?

For a long moment, the professor stared at him, before shaking his head.  “I admit to having reasons, but they are not ones for your ears.”

Harry stared at him, face carefully blank.   That wasn’t good enough.  “I...I don’t think I should be here anymore.  I’ll see you in class, Professor.”  With that he turned and dashed out, ignoring Snape when he called his name.

He should have known better, really.  It was his own fault for trusting the man.


	8. Mirror, Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to violence

Time passed, dragging on unpleasantly as Harry struggled to adopt his new feelings of conflict and betrayal into his routine. He was insufferably quiet and short with people, even with Pansy and Draco, and before long, people were steering clear of him all together. Potions classes were the worst. A schism had grown between Harry and Professor Snape, and while Harry still excelled to the best of his capabilities, something was off. People had tried to ask, but Harry shut down, clammed up and said nothing. And they weren’t stupid enough to go and ask Professor Snape what was happening.

“Christmas is coming soon, you excited?”

Harry looked over at Pansy and rose a shoulder in a shrug, but nodded all the same. Christmas had never been his favourite holiday. It consisted of watching Dudley open mountains of presents while he cooked, cleaned and did a bunch of other cliched Cinderella type things. “I guess.”

“I made you something lovely,” Pansy admitted in a low whisper as she rolled onto her stomach on the couch. Some students had gone home earlier that morning, leaving the Common Room strangely empty. 

Harry offered her a terse smile. “I’m sure I’ll love it.” 

“Are you still going with Draco to his parent’s house?”

“As far as I know.”

Harry and Pansy had talked more in the past two weeks than Harry and Draco. It hadn’t been anything personal, it was just that Draco could be very nosy - not that Pansy wasn’t - it was just... Harry felt like he could vent to Pansy, whereas he was more guarded with Draco. Harry closed his Charms textbook and chewed on his thumbnail in agitation. He was tired. For the past three nights he had been suffering from terrible nightmares. 

Harry looked up as a fluttering caught his attention and gave a smile at the sight of multi-coloured butterflies floating about his head, flying in swirling patterns. He rose a hand to catch one, but his hand passed through it, leaving behind a pins and needles sensation. “You really know how to cheer me up.”

“I didn’t cast that,” Pansy replied, blowing a large bubble of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. It cracked loudly and a bright blue bubble floated off towards the ceiling.

“I did. Simple magic really does fascinate you, doesn’t it?”

Harry rose his head before he shifted in place so Draco could sit on the couch. When the blonde sat, Harry dumped his feet unceremoniously in Draco’s lap. “I’m a child at heart.”

Draco snorted and poked at Harry’s ankles. “So, are you going to tell us what’s been going on, or are you going to make me want to jinx you terribly for the rest of the year?”

Harry gave a lopsided grin and fixed his glasses. “I promise it’ll be settled by Christmas. It’s just a case of figuring things out.”

“Well good.” Draco shifted so he was curled on the couch opposite Harry, their legs tangled together messily and he gave Harry a playful kick. “It was getting hard to live with you.”

That night, Harry was again woken by nightmares. Images of bright green lights and flapping black robes replayed in his mind. The dark of the dorm room felt cloying, and the drapes of his bed reminded him of the walls of his cupboard in the gloom. Discomforted, Harry slipped on a robe and his shoes, making his way out into the Common Room.

Normally, the room had a fire going and at least one or two students to liven it up. When empty and dark, the furniture seemed to take on a tall, gloomy feel, like rows of ominous, judging figures. Shadows danced around, disturbed by the eerie light coming from the windows to the lake, and dark shapes darted past. 

For the first time, Harry absolutely regretted getting sorted into Slytherin.

Unable to stand it, Harry dashed out the passageway and into the hallway, making his way up the various stairs. He took less used paths, and kept to areas where he could duck away behind objects or into a dark corner, but as time went he began to feel more confident about his ability to get around unnoticed. After all, there were only a few members of the faculty, and this castle was huge. 

Unsure where to go, except out of the shadowed dungeons, Harry made a pathway to the library. If nothing else, he could probably find a well-lit window and a book to pass the time. He was nearly there when he picked up the sound of faint footsteps and quiet murmurs. Heart in his throat, Harry ducked into a dark, tiny alcove.

Filch’s voice became clearer - he was chatting amicably with Ms. Norris about ‘the good old days’, whatever those were. He didn’t seem to have noticed the sudden burst of movement down the hall, and instead turned down another corridor. His cat let out a plaintive sound, possibly having scented him, but Filch simply told the creature to hurry up, and it padded after him.

Once his voice began indistinct again, Harry let out a great sigh. How stupid could he be? Of course there was going to be someone posted at the library - common areas like that were the obvious targets for wandering students. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Harry slipped out in the opposite direction of the caretaker, picking the first unused looking room he could find that looked like a good place to hide out. No sense running around when he knew Filch was in the area, after all.

The room wasn’t empty, however. Standing in the center of the room, lightly reflecting the pale moonlight filtering in from the windows, was a full length mirror. Curious as to what such an item would be doing in what looked like an abandoned classroom, Harry walked up to it, eyes idly tracing his reflection.

Until a hand dropped down on his shoulder.

Harry jumped and whirled around, looking for the source of the hand. He saw no one, and in retrospect couldn’t feel any pressure. He glanced back at the mirror and gaped.

Having never seen pictures, Harry wasn’t sure how he  _knew_ , but he did. That was his parents standing behind him, his mother resting a comforting hand on his reflection’s shoulder. He blinked in utter astonishment and glanced back again, as though he could have somehow missed  _his parents_  standing behind him. Seeing no one, he returned his stare to the reflection. As he watched, his parents smiled at him, pride obvious on their faces. 

Reaching out with one hand, Harry’s fingers gently shook as he made to touch the object. Maybe this was some kind of portal? Did mirrors show the dead? A small, fragile hope bloomed in his heart. But his fingertips only made contact with cool, unyielding glass, and he had to blink back sudden tears.

As he tried to master his emotions, other people started to appear in the mirror. Some Harry had never seen before, but he could make out various features from his own face, marking them as relations. Others he recognized straight off - Draco and Pansy made their way to the front to stand side by side with him, the blonde throwing his arm around Harry in a casual, easy manner that Harry would never expect the boy to do outside of the privacy of their dorm or Common Room. Draco’s parents stood side-by-side, pressed warmly into each other, behind his parents.

Every single one of them was smiling and waving. At him. 

Harry waved weakly back, and raised one hand to wipe at the still stubbornly forming tears. Reflection-Draco rolled his eyes and punched Reflection-Harry’s shoulder playful, though the real one couldn’t feel a thing. His mom’s hand squeezed tighter on his shoulder, and Harry wished more than anything in the world that he could feel that weight.

A part of him wanted to rush back to his dorms, shake his friends awake, and drag them up to see this. Another much louder part of him wanted to stay right here and never move again. That part won out. After all, neither would thank him for waking them up at such a miserable hour, would they?

Settling down in front of the mirror, arms wrapped around his legs in a mockery of comfort, Harry stared at the mirror, simultaneously exalting its surface for letting him see this and cursing it for showing him this impossible hope.

~*~

Harry had no idea how long he sat there, staring, before he was jerked out of his stupor by a noise behind him. By that point the first rays of dawn were making their way out through the window. The boy spun, irrationally furious at whoever had woken him up, and found Snape standing there, eyes wide as he took in the small form on the floor.

Before he’d even thought the action through, Harry was on his feet, back pressed against his hollow comfort and wand at the ready. “What do you want?” He snapped at the man, voice quiet but very intense, emotions clanging at the surface.

Snape ignored his words, making his way around the room until he could see the mirror’s reflection, and Harry wondered if he could see his family too. “Indulge me for a moment, Mr. Potter.” Snape’s voice was the quietest Harry had ever heard it, and felt almost...cleaner. Like it had been stripped of something dark and festering. “What do you see?”

Vaguely wondering if he’d fallen asleep and this was a dream, Harry glanced back at the mirror. He was blocking his view of his friends, but he could see his parents. James Potter was standing tall and proud, lines regal and protective. Lily, on the other hand, was smiling ever so softly, eyes only warm and welcoming. That more than anything convinced him. “I see my family.” The urge to add a ‘sir’ at the end hit him, but Harry resisted. Somehow he felt that would break the strange atmosphere between them.

A broken, bubbling noise made its way from Snape’s mouth, and Harry realized with a lurch that it was supposed to be a laugh. A very bitter, sad laugh, that had rotted and died somewhere dark long ago. “You are wiser than I was at your age.” The man said, and came up so he was standing in front of the boy, his eyes fixed on the mirror. “Do you know what this does?”

Harry gulped, and gave a little half-shrug. “It shows us what we want?” He ventured. After all, Harry knew what he was seeing was  _exactly_  what he wanted.

“Close.” The professor replied, and his hand came up as Harry’s had earlier, and like his only met glass. That seemed nearly enough for the other man, though, and the barest ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “It shows us our very deepest desires. The things we want more than anything else.”

For a moment silence ruled, as that sunk in. It really wasn’t much to take, so much as he had to swallow disappointment that it wasn’t some kind of magic transportation. Finally, Snape spoke again. “You asked me before, Mr. Potter, why I wanted you alive.” His hand trailed down the mirror, tracing something with one hand, and when Harry looked back he could see his mother’s hand matching the dark man’s. Her smile was soft, sweet, and above all forgiving. “The truth is that we have someone in common in this mirror.”

Shifting out of his professor’s way, Harry made to stand beside the man, eyes glancing between the mirror and Snape. All the other figures in the glass seemed to fade, almost like ghosts, until all that was left was Lily, still vibrant and warm and smiling. “Mum,” Harry murmured. 

The professor didn’t respond, but he had to reason to. Instead he dropped his hand and took a step back. Finally, Lily met the fate of the others, fading away, until all that was left in the mirror was Snape and Harry. Finally, the dark man turned to look at the boy. His eyes were, for the first time in recent memory, soft and nearly warm. Some little part of Harry thought that the change made Snape seem much less like the scary, bat-like man he thought he knew, and much more like an old friend. “Many men have gone mad watching this mirror, Mr. Potter. I believe we are in danger of joining their ranks. Let’s go.” He placed on large hand on Harry’s back and gently led the slightly reluctant boy out of the room. 

Together they made their way back to the Slytherin Common Room. Right before he entered the room, a sudden urge seized Harry, and he spun to look at Snape once more. “Sir,” He began, slightly awkward. “I’ll be gone for winter break...but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to start up the tutoring sessions again. If,” His voice broke, utterly defeated by the emotions of the night. “If you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

For just a moment, the smile Snape had made for Lily was directed at her son. “Very well, Mr. Potter.” He nodded once. “After the holidays, I will expect you in my office at the normal time.” 

There were no good-byes, no awkward ends. Instead, there was something like a hello. Both turned and went back to their respective beds.


	9. Making Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to past violence

Harry shook himself off when he came through the vent, crashing hard into the floor of the station in Diagon Alley. So that’s what Floo was. He didn’t like it. He could taste soot and ash and he was pretty sure he was covered in it. A loud noise sounded behind him and he gave a strangled, startled noise when Draco landed half on top of him, rolling off onto the floor of the station. 

“Come, come,” Narcissa’s voice sounded and Harry hauled himself up, watching as Narcissa Vanished the soot and ash from Draco’s clothing with gentle flicks of her wand. 

Harry stood still while Narcissa did the same to him, his eyes lowering down to his raggedy clothes, which swam on him, in shame. Even on the train Draco, like some other Pureblood students, had worn modified robes. Now he was dressed in a pair of well fitted jeans and a deep blue turtleneck sweater. He took a fluffy, large black parka from his mother and shrugged it on and zipped it with a quiet ‘thank you, Mother’. 

“Harry, did someone jinx your clothes?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck and kicked his dirty shoes in a line of ash on the floor. “No, Narcissa.”

“Well, clearly those Muggles didn’t know how to dress you. No matter, we’ll fix that first before attending to your robes. I also need to pick up some potions supplies.”

Harry gaped at the woman but took the parka she had brought for him - deep red - and zipped it up, pulled the hood over his head and jammed his hands into his pockets. They had been warned the weather was blustery and cold. They threw themselves into the snowy cold. 

A quick passage through the Leaky Cauldron had them onto the streets of London. Harry made to protest that he hadn’t changed any of his gold to pounds, but he figured fighting against Draco’s mother would be useless. It was strange, Harry thought, watching as Narcissa moved effortlessly through the crowds of people with a haughty air about her that was mimicked less severely by Draco, to see the witch in modernity. The regal nature of her attitude seemed so out of place. Harry, however, had no problems blending in and disappearing as he shoved his nose down into the collar of his coat to keep his face warm and trudged through the snow, shoulders hunched. 

They boarded a taxi and Harry and Draco loaded themselves into the back, shivering despite the short walk, while Narcissa eased herself into the front seat. She managed to look effortlessly perfect while also looking subtly perturbed, as if the existence of a car annoyed her. She gave the address and they started off. The ride was unusually quiet, filled with sounds of the radio turned low and the two-way talkies for the cabbie. Harry looked out the window and watched the streets slip by as they turned into the more fashionable areas of London. Before long they turned onto Bond Street and they stopped. Narcissa opened her clutch purse and pulled out a wallet, she rooted around a minute before pulling out a few notes and handed them off to the cabbie, who stared down at the notes - which were far more than necessary - before pocketing them and doling out change. 

They climbed out of the car and without a word Narcissa strode across the iced, shoveled pavement and walked into Ralph Lauren’s boutique. Draco followed after her unhesitatingly but Harry stopped outside the store and peered into the large glass windows feeling out of place. Seconds later Narcissa opened the door and looked at him and he dashed inside quickly. 

Draco was already draped in a chair, his coat being carried off by an attendant and he looked perfectly at home with an expression of boredom. Harry hesitantly handed off his coat and ducked his head in embarrassment when the shop girl looked him top to toe and her lip curled. He may as well have been the scum on her shoe. Harry looked around the shop in wonder before he trailed after Narcissa when she called his name and started pulling things randomly from the shelves and draped things over her arm. 

“You would look lovely in red, Harry. Maybe black as well, no one ever looks bad in black. Maybe some blues to bring out your eyes... Some dark greens...” She snapped and unloaded her heap into the salesgirl’s arms with a quick “hold this for me, would you?” before she attacked a rack of pants. She unfolded some, made faces and discarded them, moved onto others. Before long, the poor salesgirl had deposited three armfuls of clothes by the dressing rooms, where Draco was now reading a magazine, looking bored. 

“Alright now, Harry. Let’s get you trying these on.” 

“But I really don’t--”

“There’s a good boy, I’ll hold your glasses for you, in you go.”

“But, Narcissa, really I--”

“Excellent, dear.”

Before Harry could even manage another half worded request he was huddled in the changing room with the curtain drawn with the first heap of clothes. He squinted down at them before he pulled off one of Dudley’s old t-shirts and dropped it on the floor, it was followed seconds later by his jeans. He stepped into the first pair of trousers, which were black and soft, he left them hanging open while he pulled on a dress shirt and buttoned it. He tucked it in and zipped up the pants before rummaging through the pile on the floor and pulled up a sweater vest and tugged it over his head. He may not have had the chance while living with his family, but Harry had learned how to dress well from people watching. 

Opening the curtain, Harry stepped out and took his glasses from Narcissa and put them on. She was standing there, clasping her hands proudly as she looked at him. Harry’s heart soared and he found himself smiling, glowing at her approval. Draco peered over his magazine and his eyes widened, his brows lifted in shock and he stood, a grin working onto his lips. 

“Wow, you clean up well.”

Harry grinned sheepishly and headed to the mirror to look at himself. He swallowed thickly and stared. He barely recognized himself. The pants were a deep grey, the dress shirt was a pale blue and the sweater vest was a darker shade of blue with a white line running along the collar and hemline. He looked so different. He straightened his posture and threw his shoulders back, feeling confident. 

A flurry of movement in the reflection made Harry turn and he saw Narcissa bundling up the clothes he had worn into the shop. She handed them off to a salesgirl. “Do me a favour and burn those.” She turned back to Harry and clapped her hands together. “Let’s keep going.”

Just over two hours later they finished up at the shops, spending just under £1000 on mostly things for Harry, and a few things for Draco. While the shopgirls were busy with other customers, Naricissa transported their bags away with a hidden flick and they bundled up back into the street. Harry was proudly wearing a pair of smart white trousers and a black v-necked sweater with a dress shirt underneath. The only thing missing was a pair of shoes. Which is where they headed next. 

They spent a small amount of time in there, Harry had got a pair of dress shoes, a pair of new running shoes, and a pair of leather boots. Draco had gotten two pairs of boots and Narcissa bought herself three pairs of high heels. 

With that they flagged down a cab and were headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. With a quick tap of Narcissa’s wand on the back brick wall, they crossed into the archway to Diagon Alley. As soon as the wall closed up behind them, Harry lowered his hood, it was strange to explain, but being among Wizarding people made him feel more comfortable than he had been while amongst Muggles. Nothing bad, just... he felt like he wasn’t hiding. 

They stopped in at Gringotts and Narcissa changed her pounds back to galleons and she and Draco waited in the lobby while Harry went down to his vault. Once he got a sufficient amount, Harry rejoined the others in the lobby. They exited and agreed to meet in front of Flourish and Blotts in an hour. Narcissa strode off towards the Apothecary and Harry and Draco headed off to look at shops. 

The boys made their way into one of the various gift stores that sprung up annually, and shared a look before splitting up. Harry made his way to a rack of various winter accessories. Pansy was the first girl he’d ever really gotten to know, and he found himself at something of a loss for her gift. Jewelry was kind of a personal taste kind of gift, from what he’d seen, and he didn’t want to spend a lot of money and time on something she’d hate. Clothes seemed like the next best thing, but he didn’t know her size. So something like scarves seemed right - friendly and useful.

He pawed through the various scarves, grimacing at the brighter coloured ones. Pansy would strangle him with it if he got her a hot pink one. Finally he came across one in a nice, cool silver color. It had swirls of black and dark green on it that coiled as he watched, almost like snakes. The cloth was warm and thick, and seemed pretty high quality. It seemed like something she’d like, and it would even go with her school stuff. He dragged it off the hook and started to move on, but indecision struck him. Pansy was used to really lavish gifts - his measly little scarf looked silly in comparison. Maybe some sort of pin to use with it?

Turning back around, Harry scanned the rack, looking for something to go with it. His eyes landed on a matching hat - one of the ones with the big fluffy ear flaps that had danging fluffballs coming from it. The vision of Pansy is such a silly hat nearly made Harry burst out laughing, and he grabbed it and stuffed it with the scarf. It nothing else, she’d get some satisfaction from insulting him for it. And then he could offer to get her something else like he’d planned it.

Pleased with himself, Harry ducked back farther into the store. He passed a display of candies and grabbed a box, figuring Ron would probably like them. They were edible, after all. This area was filled with more ornamental type items, and Harry passed through them idly, not really expecting to find something worth-while. 

A glint of light caught his eye, and Harry turned and froze. On the shelf in front on him was a fancy hourglass - the kind that sat on a desk or shelf as decoration. The dark wood encasing the glass housing looked freshly polished, and the sand within it was coloured in shades of dark grey and black. A silver, metal dragon wrapped itself around the entire thing, shifting and slithering about, eyes watching Harry.

The dragon decided it for Harry, and he grabbed the hourglass, shivering slightly as the metal beast slipped over his hands as it made its way around. It was colder than he had expected. He stashed that in his bag and set off back towards the front, looking forward to Christmas just a little bit more now.

Fairly certain that he’d finished before Draco - the other boy was notoriously picky, and Harry doubted that the exception was gifts - he started poking around the various displays. One in particular caught his attention. It was filled with fancy looking mirrors, similar to the handheld one his aunt kept in the bathroom. He picked up one, using it too look behind him at the other customers. When he looked up, Harry noticed his own reflection in one of the mirrors that was facing the wrong direction. He blinked at it for a moment, then looked around for a sign.

 _Two-way mirrors!_  It declared.  _Keep in contact no matter the distance!_  A slow smile spread across Harry’s face, and he grabbed a particularly regal looking set. He was certain that Mr. and Mrs. Mal- er, Narcissa would appreciate a way to keep in contact with their son at Hogwarts. And if it kept down the number of times Draco complained about being away from home, than all the better.

Finished fooling around, Harry went to the front, keeping a steady eye out for Draco. When he couldn’t see the other boy, he took out his purchases and gave them to the clerk to check out. By the time Draco ambled out, clearly taking his time, Harry had been set to go for 10 minutes.

When he spotted him, Draco froze. Then the blonde furiously gestured at him to turn around. Harry rolled his eyes, and Draco glared at him. Sighing, he shrugged and spun around, gazing out the window into Diagon Alley. He spotted Narcissa coming out of the Apothecary, managing to look regal and unaffected, despite being followed by flying bags full of no doubt disgusting things.

He got distracted watching the various witches and wizards come and go, and so was startled when Draco suddenly appeared at his sight. Harry let out a highly undignified squeak and nearly dropped his bags, then glared at the blonde as he snickered into his hand.

Only the fact that Narcissa had reached them stopped Harry from stomping down on the other’s foot, and judging by the look on Draco’s face he had planned it that way.

“Are you boys ready?” She asked, arching an eyebrow at them. They nodded and Narcissa led them along to the Apparition spot. With a surprisingly quiet  _crack_ , they were standing at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Harry wobbled on his feet, feeling faintly sick, and smoothed a hand down his front to make sure he was all there. He really didn’t like that. He groaned quietly and trailed behind the other two into the front hall of the Manor. His eyes darted around the room and he let out slow breaths at how opulent things were. He was sure that the Dursley home could fit inside at least three or four times over. More if you counted the grounds as well. 

There was a pop and Harry jerked back in surprise at the sight of a large-eyed, short creature with long fingers and drooping ears. The thing bowed politely and introduced itself as Dobby, the Malfoy’s main house elf. Harry was torn with a mixture of poking Dobby to make sure he wasn’t an illusion and flinching away in a mix of horror and disgust. Instead Dobby just took their coats and disappeared with another pop. 

“Well then, why don’t you show Harry to the guest room?”

Draco nodded and tugged lightly on Harry’s arm before stooping down to pick up his bag of purchased gifts. Harry picked up his own bags and followed behind Draco. His eyes roaming over the walls at the various pictures and paintings on the wall. 

“Watch out for the --”

“Ouch!”

“--false step.”

Harry glared at Draco and rubbed his shin when he managed to free his foot from the trick stair. “A little more forewarning would have been nice.”

Draco shrugged and continued up the stairs, Harry following quickly behind. They got off on the third level, a level above the “extra drawing rooms, the library and Father’s study”. Draco swept down a winding hall before pausing in front of a door. He knocked on the door twice and then turned the knob, pulled the door towards him before pushing in. The door swung open and Draco stepped inside and Harry followed him inside. 

The room, which judging by the shining placard on the dark wood door was Draco’s, was not what Harry expected for Draco’s personal room. Instead of deep, dark colours, it was a pleasant shade of reddish brown, slightly lighter than a rust colour. The borders along the floor-line were taupe while the molding on the ceiling was eggshell white. Together they made the room look homey, and gave it a comforting atmosphere, something soothing that seemed unlike Draco. 

Various posters lined the walls, the same group of people were on several posters. From the state of them, they looked to be a musical band, Harry approached the poster closest to him, watching as one man, who was sprawled on a couch scratched his nose. The name of the group - Weird Sisters - was shimmering above their heads. Harry thought it strange. They were all men, so it was a funny sort of title. 

Above the bed was a poster for Quidditch, a chaser for the team was zooming around on his broom. Harry moved to look at the team name, he twisted his head and peered up. Vestra Vultures was a sleek black at the very bottom. 

“Where’re they from?”

“Bulgaria. They play hard. No holds barred. Not like Puddlemere, who believe in morality and integrity so much it’s cost them games.” 

“I’ve never seen professional Quidditch before.”

“We should go sometime. Alright, let’s get you to the guest room.”

They exited Draco’s room and Harry followed him into the guest room. It was cool gray with hard black borders that popped. It was sparsely decorated with modest, tasteful furniture, a large, oval shaped standing mirror in one corner and several paintings of scenery. Harry smiled softly, the room was overly large, and all for him. The bed looked soft, so soft he could sink into it, and it looked inviting. He had to fight the childish urge to fling his things aside and leap on it with a cry. 

“Well... I’ll leave you to it.” Draco smiled at Harry and nodded once before leaving Harry alone.

Harry watched the door for a long moment before he dropped his things and ran for the bed. He leaped and landed on it with a laugh, practically swimming in the bedding that collapsed on top of him with the force of his impact. Rolling onto his back, Harry grinned up at the ceiling. 

He could get used to this. 

~*~

The next morning, Harry woke bright and early, still used to the Hogwarts schedule. Part of him wanted to roll over and luxuriate in a world where he could sleep in, but another part of him was vibrating with energy, even this early in the morning.

Too wound up to do more than doze, Harry slipped out of the covers and checked the clock. It was 8:00 AM. Draco never got up before 10 on the weekends, and he figured it would be the same here. It would be kind of boring in this room for the next while, but the idea of wandering around the house without the other boy felt like an intrusion, somehow. He had no idea what the norms were here, and if it’d be seen as inexcusably rude if he started to poke his nose around.

Instead he grabbed yesterday’s purchases and looked at them with pride. Christmas shopping was a new idea to him, and the fact that he’d found such good gifts made him feel hopeful. No matter what his relatives had done or told him, maybe Harry could live a good live in the future.

Spotting the wrapping paper he’d bought - green with little dancing silver bells on it, that if one listened very closely the sounds of chiming could be heard - he snatched it up and started to unravel it before. This was another thing Harry had never done. Aunt Petunia didn’t dare let him near any of Dudley’s many gifts, even if it meant she had to wrap all of them herself. However, he’d watched her do it enough that he had the basic idea. Grabbing some tape and scissors, Harry eagerly got to work.

A little after nine, Draco knocked twice at the door before barging in. He found Harry surrounded by scraps of paper, some of which were sticking up in his hair. The boy had somehow managed to get tape on nearly every surface around him, including his face and glasses. Despite all this, he was grinning like a loon as he finished wrapping up a scarf and hat. Draco eyed the items curiously, and judging by the way Harry only blinked at him in surprise, he figured it wasn’t for him. A few other items were on the bed, all surprisingly nearly wrapped, considering what a disaster the room is. As he watched, one of them seemed to shift and move oddly, and Draco wondered what it could be.

“Morning.” Harry greeted cheerfully, giving a little wave, which sent a scrap that had been clinging to the back of his hand fluttering down to the floor. Draco watched it fall with an almost dispassionate air, before snapping his eyes back to Harry’s face.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” 

Harry blinked at him. “Wrapping Christmas presents,” He murmured, in a tone that sounded like he thought Draco was absolutely barmy.

Rolling his eyes, Draco picked out a relatively clean spot in front of his friend and sat down. “I know that. Why are you doing it, though? That’s what the house-elves are for.”

A confused head tilt was his answer. “That’s what who are for?”

Resisting the urge to slap his hand against his forehead in a very undignified manner, Draco shook his head. “It’s like you don’t know anything.” He declared. Harry rolled his eyes. “They’re like servants. They do chores like cleaning and cooking. And wrapping Christmas presents.”

Harry didn’t look any less confused. “Why would I let them do that? I wanted to wrap the presents.”

“So that your room doesn’t end up a mess?” Draco offered dryly, and Harry looked around sheepishly.

Gathering some of the pieces around him - which only sent the ones in his hair tumbling to the ground - Harry offered, “I can clean this up...”

A loud scoff made the dark-haired boy look up. “You don’t listen at all, do you? The house-elves do the cleaning. They’ll take care of it.” The boy stood up and held out his hand for Harry, which he took. “Let’s go see more of the Manor before breakfast. We can’t be late, though. Father would be mad.” With that Draco dragged Harry up and out of the room, ignoring the way the other boy gazed back at the mess with a distracted little frown.

The boys ran around the upper levels of Malfoy Manor. Draco was practically vibrating with excitement over being able to share the home he loved with someone else, which was probably the reason he was up so unusually early. Harry was fascinated by all the interesting rooms the Malfoys had. There was one with old, medieval tapestries and objects, kept looking new by charms. Another led to what appeared to be an indoor garden, almost similar to the botanical garden Harry had been to once for a field trip in primary. There was even pair of comfy looking benches for sitting around and enjoying the view. The biggest difference between this and the one he’d visited before were the fairy lights that dashed about, ducking and weaving within the bushes and flowers.

The biggest hit was probably the library. Draco, knowing Harry’s weak point, took him to first a section on the history and strategy of Quidditch, and then to an area devoted to potions. Harry ran his hand over the titles excitedly, recognizing the names of several authors from the extra sessions he’d had with his professor. Pausing at one worn looking book, his eyes widened and hr slipped it out, flipping through the pages gently, but with enthusiasm. “A copy of Advancements in Philter! From the way Professor Snape talked about this, he would kill to read it.”

“That would be unnecessary, considering that he already has.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice told him, and both boys whirled to see him watching them through the library’s open door. “That very copy, in fact.” His eyes tracked between Harry and the book, as if unsure if he should let the boy keep hold if it, but the obvious care with which he held it must have persuaded him. “Breakfast will be ready rather shortly, boys. Take care not to be late.” With that he swept down the hall.

Harry glanced at Draco, who puffed up his chest. “Mother and Father realize the importance of keeping up proper manners, even at home.” Under Harry’s deadpan stare, the mask slipped and Draco shrugged and grinned. “That’s what they say, anyway. Let’s get going. I’d leave that book here. It’d just get dirty at the table.” Harry nodded and set the book back in its usual place, and then the two of them dashed off, following Mr. Malfoy down to the dining room.

They washed their hands before sitting down to breakfast, which was served at a large table, but they sat together at a grouping near the head. Narcissa was sipping from a delicate mug, and from the scent, it was strong coffee and not tea. She was dressed languidly, still in her nightdress, which could have put some of Harry’s Aunt Petunia’s Sunday best to shame. Her hair was smoothed back from her face and piled on top of her head, kept in place with a series of pins and curlers and further secured with a snood. While Harry was sure there were charms that could be done to fix hair, he was pretty sure Narcissa liked the put together look of doing it herself. 

Lucius sat at the head of the table, Narcissa was off to his right and Draco and Harry sat side by side at his left. Unlike his wife Lucius was dressed in a fine pressed suit, with shining buttons, his long hair was fastened back in a simple black silk ribbon. He looked like an upper-class man from the past, so regal and out of the ordinary. One of the strange little house-elves appeared along with a partner, the two handed off their plates to respective people at the table. Harry took his with a gracious smile and set it down in front of him. 

Each person’s plate was arranged with different foods. Draco’s, for instance, was fitted with black pudding, over-medium eggs (Harry had learned Draco only ever ate over-medium eggs after an unfortunate incident when Crabbe had given him an over-easy egg once), tomato, and toast. Narcissa had eggs Benedict atop crumpets with smoked salmon and potato. Lucius had the simplest, a side of toast, fresh fruit, and cereal, along with piping hot, strong dark coffee. Harry, however, had hot cakes with strawberries and rich syrup. How they knew his favourite breakfast was beyond him, but it was served along with orange juice and Earl Grey, the perfect mix. 

“Do you have to go to the Ministry today?” 

Lucius shook his head lightly, stirring in some fruit to his cereal and taking a bite. “St. Mungos.” 

Draco nodded his head and took a bite of his black pudding and a sip of his orange pekoe. He shifted in place, dressed down from his usual robes, and dress clothes in a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. He looked far younger than his usual self, even his hair was messily styled. It looked good on him. 

Breakfast was eaten mostly in silence, save for the occasional talk about school, or what they were going to do about the holidays. Narcissa discussed putting up the tree. Harry loved that idea, and quietly pitched in his approval, as he had always loved decorating the tree at Primary. One year he had even put the star on the top of the tree. After that Lucius Apparated from the front hall and Draco tugged him towards the stairs so they could go look at something.

“I think you’ll think this is neat, c’mere.”


	10. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to violence

Harry and Draco headed up the stairs to the tallest room in the Manor. Wide, arching windows streamed sunlight into the circular room and inside of it was a podium with a book on it. Draco prodded Harry as he strode towards it and Harry rushed to keep step with him. The book was old, bound in rich, dark leather. Upon it was a silver and black iron crest, the shield of the crest was flanked on either side by black, writhing Wyrms, their wings unfurled and screeching. The shield was spiked and had snakes coiled about the top. In the middle on the patched green and black field was a glinting silver M, below which was an unfurled banner with the motto Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. 

“It’s the Malfoy family book. Traces us back as far as we go, and the Blacks too, which is Mother’s side of the family.”

Draco placed his hands on the book and whispered something and the book rose into the air, the pages flipped rapidly before settling, with some unknown charm, the pages of the book glowed hot before the ink on the page shot out and projected into the air. Draco smiled widely and rose his arm, tracing through the spectral display of names. 

“What am I looking at?” Harry squinted up at the flurry of names. 

“There. Married to Dorea Black.” 

With the uttering of the name, the line of descendants shot forward, a hot red, and Harry followed the line. “Charlus Potter.” Harry stared at the name and rose up a hand, which passed through the smoky name effortlessly. His eyes drew down, searching for his own name. “Was she my Grandmother?”

“More likely an aunt of some kind. It doesn’t trace to you, it only gives the name of the spouse and if they had children. She had a son who died before the first War.”

Harry nodded, but his eyes traced back up to the name. The link between their families. “So... we’re related?”

“Third cousins twice removed, or something crazy like that. Same with the Weasleys.” 

The Potter line sunk back into the din as the pages of the book flipped and a new bloodline shot out. The name Cedrella Black was connected to Septimus Weasley. The line didn’t descend below them, though it was obvious the Weasley’s had children. 

“How come we’re all related?” Harry asked, following the lines and names, which all seemed familiar. 

“Inbreeding,” Draco answered with a shrug. “Keeps the blood pure.”

Harry stared at him. “Why?”

There was silence as Draco utterly failed to understand that. “Because it keeps us stronger?” He managed to voice, watching the other boy with wide, confused eyes.

Tilting his head, Harry thought about this. “But isn’t inbreeding really bad? Like, weird stuff happens with the kids? That doesn’t seem stronger.”

“It makes the magic stronger.” Draco told him.

That only served to confuse Harry more. “But, not all purebloods are really strong, but some non-purebloods are. Like no offense to Greg and Vincent, but they aren’t really that good, and Hermione Granger is usually the first one to get stuff right.”

Draco shook his head. “She’s the exception, if anything. And she’s just a know-it-all.” His voice was getting sulky. “Purebloods are just better, okay?”

Staring at the other boy, Harry pointed out, “But, I’m a half-blood.”

The other boy froze. Clearly he had forgotten that. “Well, you’re the heir to the Potter line, who were really pure. I guess that was enough to keep you from getting bad effects.”

“Then it doesn’t matter that my Mum was a muggleborn at all?”

“Yes...no!” Draco flapped his hands around, unable to articulate himself. “Just...It’s better to be Pureblood. That’s it!” Harry wanted to point how much sense that didn’t make, but just sighed and shrugged. There was no sense in trying to talk to Draco when he was so worked up.

Draco grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, babbling about the library and the Manor, unusually transparent in his attempts to change the subject. The two went back up to the section they had been in before breakfast, and Harry happily settled down with a potions book - a different one than the one he’d been so excited about before. It was well beyond his level. Draco grabbed a few Quidditch books and flipped through them, restless and hyperactive. 

Unable to ignore him, Harry finally broke. “Is there something else we can do? Like, you knew how to fly before Hogwarts. Do you have a place you go for that?” Draco’s eyes lit up as he nodded, and the two went and grabbed their brooms. They made their way to the Malfoy’s personal pitch (Harry wondered why they had one, considering they didn’t have near enough people to make even one team, but figured asking that would only get him an eye roll). They spent a few hours happily whizzing around, playing Seeker vs Seeker (which Harry won every time, to Draco’s clear frustration) and what was basically tag (which had them about equal, which calmed the other boy back down).

Finally, they trudged inside, tired and freezing, but happy. They both took showers and changed into cleaner clothes, before they made their way downstairs, looking for something to eat. Once down, they found Narcissa fiddling with a undecorated Christmas tree, making the branches either grow or shrink until it became picture perfect. On the table was a plate stacked high with Christmas themed biscuits. Draco reached out a grabbed one, nibbling on it contentedly, and Harry hesitantly took one as well. He paused before eating it, afraid he would be yelled at for eating Draco’s treat, but Draco only gave him an odd look for hesitating when he had a treat, and Narcissa didn’t seem to care at all. Reassured, he took a big bite and smiled at the taste. So that was what a Christmas biscuit tasted like.

Narcissa called out for the ornaments to be brought, and with a sharp crack a trunk appeared next to her. Almost simultaneously, Lucuis apparated into the front hall. He made his way into the large foyer, spelling fat snowflakes off his thick clock with an impatient flick of his wand. Narcissa greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and Draco smiled softly at the warmth between them. Beside him, Harry ducked his head, feeling awkward and out of place.

“Alright,” Narcissa announced, a flick of her wand making the trunk’s lid fly open, revealing that it was full of ornaments. Another flick and several little figurines of Quidditch players, passing a Quaffle between them, flew out of the box and began circling the tree. “Youngest to oldest. Harry, if you’d start.”

Wondering vaguely how she knew he was younger, Harry glanced at Draco, who pushed at his shoulder towards the trunk. Harry knelt by it, leaning down and picking out a figuring that looked like a little angel. He wondered if they knew what it was, or if it had just trickled down into their culture, in the same way the entire holiday had. In fact, he wondered why they celebrated Christmas at all.

A quick swish had the angel stretching like it had just woken up from a nice, long sleep, and then it took to the air, flapping its tiny, fluffy wings. It glowed softly. Harry watched it fly about, half amazed and half lost in his own thoughts, before he felt a shoulder knock into his. He glanced sideways and saw Draco digging through the trunk with abandon. Finally he pulled out one that looked like a dragon, but this one didn’t have wings. After a moment, it shivered and then jumped out of Draco’s hand, climbing up the tree like a cat and hopping from one branch to another, chasing after the Quidditch players or batting at the tufts of needles.

One by one they set off the various trinkets. Some were bells that chimed softly and prettily. Others were bows that changed colours or sizes. There were even a few that simply hung there, playing animations of childish drawings. Draco blushed slightly at those and tried to look utterly bored, but Harry liked those best. They were more heartfelt than the rest, somehow, Each one Narcissa picked up by hand and placed herself, rather than simply magicking, and every time Harry smiled just a bit wider.

Finally, all the decorations were up, and Lucius waved his wand in a little swirl and murmured a charm. Little fairy lights appeared all over the tree, blinking in and out of existence and twirling themselves around the branches. It was the prettiest thing Harry thought he’d ever saw.

Finished with their toil, hot chocolate cracked into the room for them, and the family chatted together easily, sharing memories of holidays past. Harry remained quiet, unable to contribute, but not really desiring to. He simply enjoyed part of such a happy atmosphere. It felt like being next to a campfire - warm and comforting, casting light on everything around it.

Harry thought that he quite liked Christmas, actually.

Before long it was Christmas Eve, and the house was filled with the smell of baking biscuits and cooking foods. The smell of mulled wine and apple cider were floating through the air. Harry was lounging on the sofa in the main living room with Draco’s puffskein, Malcom on his chest, while reading a book on Quidditch. He needed to get Draco some Muggle books, like Sherlock Holmes, or Oscar Wilde.... Though they did have Shakespear., Harry really needed to question them about that. 

A few more perfectly wrapped gifts appeared under the tree, and Harry eyed them curiously. There was a warm, roaring fire in the fireplace, but no stockings, and Harry was pretty sure they weren’t going to be leaving a plate of milk and chocolate chip biscuits out for Father Christmas. 

“Pansy’s sent you an owl!” Draco announced, strolling into the room. He handed Harry the letter.

Dear Harry,  
I got the gifts you and Draco sent me via Elf, they’re sitting in our living room right now. I’m excited to open them. I’ve still been looking into Nicolas Flamel, no luck yet though, but I’ll let you know if anything happens, and I expect you to do the same! The house is brimming with people. We have my cousins over from America, bloody idiots. They took an aeroplane over, how uncivilized. Anyway, I’m being forced into playing a game of shuntbumps with the kids. I expect bruises, and I’ll owl you on Boxing Day.  
Happy Christmas,  
Pansy.

Harry smiled and folded up the letter before he shifted on the couch so Draco could sit beside him. Draco picked up Malcom, who chittered loudly and squeaked, and placed the little ball on his shoulder, giving a soft shudder when the puffskein nosed at his neck and burrowed into the softness of the hood on his sweater. Harry had found, in his short time at the Malfoys, that unlike his father, and most days, his mother, Draco did not like to wear robes around the house unless necessary. Lucius blamed it on modernity. Whatever the case, Harry liked closed-quarters, relaxed Draco. Not that he didn’t like public face, prattish, snooty Draco, they were just very different. And Harry now knew which one was more genuine. And appreciated it.

“C’mon, we’ll play some chess to pass the time until Midnight, and then we’re allowed to open one gift.” 

Harry grinned and stood, following after Draco to the study to pass the time. 

Dinner had been outrageous. Filled with turkey, ham, far too many potatoes for one person to consume; mashed and roasted, salads, breads, jellies, steamed carrots, and just when Harry was sure he couldn’t eat another bite - pudding with brandy and cakes. Harry was certain he would need to be rolled up the stairs. He was so full he could barely even think, let alone move, or keep his eyes open.

It wasn’t long until midnight, since by tradition (according to the Malfoy’s anyway) they ate dinner very late. Harry was idly playing with the wizard’s chess set he had gotten from his Christmas cracker and ordering the pieces to move, checking to see their loyalty. They weren’t bad, slightly mouthy, but they did what he asked them to with little fuss. 

“Come along, Harry. We’re going to open a gift now.” 

Harry joined the others in the living room and watched as they mused over which gifts to take, they each chose a small one. Harry chose one with Hagrid’s distinctive writing on the lumpy package and sat down. 

“Youngest to oldest, just as with the tree, dear.” Narcissa took a sip of her tea as she sat down on the arm of the easy chair Lucius had occupied. 

Harry nodded and opened his gift. It was a small, hand carved dragon. If he tapped on the tail just right the wings flapped. It was simple, and it wasn’t anything he was sure the Malfoys were used to, but it made him smile. He looked to Draco. Draco toted up a gift from Blaise and shook it lightly, before opening it, nodding in approval at the large box of chocolate frogs now sitting in his lap. Narcissa unwrapped her gift, which was from someone at the Ministry, and turned out to be a very stylish muff. Harry had no idea people still used those. But it suited Narcissa, as it looked very soft and warm, was a deep, rich red and came with a matching scarf. Lucius opened his present - courtesy of Cornelius Fudge - and it turned out to be a bottle of expensive elf wine. 

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Narcissa admitted, standing slowly. She made her way to Draco and dropped a kiss on top of his head before squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “Sleep well.”

Both boys bid the older two a good night and Harry swung his legs onto the couch, stretching out sleepily. “This was amazing, thank you Draco.”

“For what?”

“E’rything.” Harry managed around a wide yawn. “You made my first Christmas very special.”

“Your... what?” Draco turned to look at Harry to say something, but Harry had fallen asleep, one of his Mother’s expensive, Chinese silk cushions crushed against his chest protectively.

~*~

The next morning Harry was woken from a nice, deep sleep by Draco barging into his room and jumping onto the bed, making the smaller boy fly up a full two inches. Harry flailed, disoriented, and gazed confusedly at the blonde, whose hair was in an uncharacteristic mess.

“Harry, get up! It’s Christmas!” Enthusiastic hands grabbed at his wrists and pulled him upright.

Still a bit out of it, Harry muttered, “So?” Usually the adult Dursleys would rather he stay in his cupboard during the festivities. Dudley, on the other hand, always wanted his cousin awake to show off his new toys, and would stomp extra loudly on the way down the stairs to make sure of it.

Draco stared at him like he was crazy. “So presents!” He exclaimed, and tugged on the boy again, this time managing to get him half out of bed. Slowly, the events of the past week or so trickled into Harry’s brain, and he answered Draco’s slowly slipping smile with a grin of his own.

Still holding onto Harry’s wrist with one hand, Draco pulled the other boy behind him as they dashed down the stairs and into the main foyer. Narcissa and Lucius were already waiting at the bottom. The woman smiled warmly, looking strangely cozy in her night-gown, and with her hair down and ever so slightly wavy. Lucius, on the other hand, gave a dry stare. He was in a pair of silk pajamas, which had a tiny version of the Malfoy crest stitched over his heart. Like Draco, his hair was a bit fly-away, strands of it straying away from his face like they thought with enough effort they could float off.

Harry blinked at them all for a moment, taking a moment to process that this was his life now. It only lasted a moment before Draco broke him out of his thoughts by pushing him towards the tree. “I’m sure you’ve picked up a pattern by now.” The boy drawled, but the effect was ruined by the way he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Pick one out already!”

One labeled that it was from Pansy caught his eye, and Harry carefully slid it out of its paper, ignoring the way Draco looked utterly baffled that Harry didn’t just rip into it. The present turned out to be a scarf, mittens and hat combo, and he grinned slightly when he thought of how amused Pansy would be when she realized she got the same thing. Slowly, the grin faded into a soft, warm smile as he spotted the imperfections of the accessories. They were hand made. Coming from Pansy, that was practically a proclamation of eternal love.

Harry jammed the hat onto his head, stomach feeling like it was full of warm marshmallows. He stepped back and let Draco dive for his presents, catching the eye of Lucius, who gave him a half-confused, half-exasperated look at his new attire. He seemed confused as to why someone would wear such a thing when the manor was a perfectly reasonable temperature. Harry just smiled back and fingered the other items, sitting down on the sofa next to Narcissa, who patted his shoulder fondly while watching her son dig through his items.

Draco finally came away with the gift Harry had given him, eyeing the way it shifted in his hands with curious delight. He tore through the paper like it had personally offended him, and gaped at the hourglass. The dragon curled over his hands and he squirmed like it ticked him a bit. The blonde broke out into a grin and declared it “Brilliant!”, before turning it over and watching the sand fall. “How long is it for?”

“A day.” Harry responded, his chest puffing out slightly with pride at picking something Draco so obviously liked. The blonde sat down on the sofa next to Harry and knocked their shoulders together. 

“Thank you.”

Harry blushed and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

After watching them for a moment - Harry was very busy being pleased with himself, and Draco was turning the hourglass in circles, grinning at the dragon as it traveled around - Narcissa turned her attention to the presents. She seemed mostly disinterested, and Harry figured most of her presents were probably from people looking to butter her up. When her eyes hit on the one from Harry, however, she blinked and floated it over, looking curious. With a flick the paper vanished, leaving the set of mirrors floating in front of her. 

Narcissa’s eyes widened in recognition, and she turned to Harry, who ducked his head, feeling embarrassed. “They’re two way mirrors,” He explained, feeling silly for doing so. They probably already had some - the Malfoys had  _everything_. “I figured you’d like a way to talk to Draco easier, since it takes a while for Titan to go back and forth.”

With his head ducked and vision blocked by his bangs, Harry didn’t see the look Narcissa sent at Lucius, or the considering look the man sent at him. But he did feel Narcissa’s hand as she patted his head, which made him look up. She smiled at him. “Thank you very much, Harry. This is a very thoughtful gift. We  _used_  to have a set that was an heirloom from my family, but  _someone_ had a fit of accidental magic when he was young and melted them beyond repair,” She cast a dry look at Draco, who merely looked pleased with himself. After all, that was an impressive bit of magic for a seven year old. “And we haven’t gotten around to replacing them.” Giving his head one last pat, she directed the mirrors to settle down on the table, which they did with grace.

They went thought all the presents, one by one. Most of the ones for the elder Malfoys were indeed from people in various positions hoping for their influence, and they got things like wines and decoration. Most of them got uninterested looks and were simply noted for thank you notes (one of the exceptions was an extraordinary blown glass vase, which Narcissa eyed with interest). From Pansy, Draco got a similar set of accessories as Harry, but his were in an icy shade of blue. After a moment’s hesitation, he put his own hat on, hair sticking out oddly from the sides. From Crabbe and Goyle he received two large packages of Every Flavor Beans. Harry wondered idly if the boys has come up with the gifts together, or if they were just so similar that they sent out the same things.

Harry got a package of chocolate frogs from Ron, which he set aside for later. From the Malfoys (Draco had apparently had the idea, and bothered his parents into implementing it), he received a necklace. It depicted a coiled up snake, which shifted slightly and looked irritated at everyone around it. On the back was the Malfoy crest, which Draco cheerfully explained meant everyone had to treat Harry nicely now. Narcissa told him that there were several protective charms on it as well, and Harry grinned down at it.

His last gift was the most interesting by far. It was unlabeled, other than a simple note that said ‘To: Harry’. Before Harry could touch it, Lucius shot several spells at it, checking for curses and hexes. Everything came up clean, and with cautious hands, Harry opened it, revealing the shimmering fabric. 

Harry unraveled it, holding it up before him. He heard a choked noise, and spun it out of his view to see Lucius staring at it. Startled that the man could even make such a noise, Harry dropped the fabric. It fell over the lower half of his body.

Which then disappeared.

Harry gaped at his now apparently non-existent legs, carefully twitching his toes and sighing with relief when he felt them respond. He glanced up at the Malfoys, catching the tail end of Lucius and Narcissa sharing surprised glances. He shifted his legs and grabbed at the ‘empty air’, feeling the cloth under his hand. With a quick pull, his legs and the fabric became visible again.

Finally noticing a note pinned to it, Harry picked it up and began to read. The note had no signature, and only told him that it had been his fathers. He glanced up at Narcissa, who stood up, looking mostly unaffected. “Well, now that we’re all finished up, I think breakfast should be ready. Go put those gifts away somewhere safe, boys.” Harry and Draco nodded and dashed up the stairs with the goodies. Before they parted ways, they glanced at each other, slowly grinning. This was going to make Hogwarts a lot more interesting.

The rest of the day was lazy, filled with games, reading, and playing seeker versus seeker. Pansy Flooed in mid-afternoon on Boxing Day, looking rumpled around the edge. She had mentioned going Boxing Day shopping with her mother that morning. When she stumbled in past the grate she was wearing the hat and scarf Harry had given her, although the bauble on the top had had been spelled off. It made Harry grin. 

“Good Christmas?”

They had locked themselves in Draco’s room, they were all lounging on the affluent bed. Hary and Draco were on either end and Pansy was sprawled out in the middle. She had proclaimed herself the queen of the bed since she was the only girl.

“Best Christmas.” Harry grinned and caught the snitch Draco had with his family’s pitch and watched the fluttering wings slow before curling against the ball. Something about it was soothing. “You?”

“Not bad. But like I said, my American cousins... Did you know they play Quidditch there, but it isn’t Quidditch? It’s this idiotic game called Quadpot. The ball modeled after ours, but the Quaffle  _explodes_. How stupid is that? Why on Earth would anyone play that?” Pansy rolled her eyes. “And they don’t have houses in their schools. They’re all mixed in together. Absurd.”

“Wait, they don’t sort the Houses? How do they know who’s a Muggle-born and Pureblood?”

Pansy looked at Draco, raising up on her elbow. “They don’t care.” 

Draco’s brows rose up and his face did an amazing impression of the hula as his mouth hung agape. “They...” He sputtered. “But that’s... How can...?” Draco’s brows knitted together. “ _Americans_.”

Harry didn’t see the problem with the mingling that Draco and Pansy did, so he just laid in the bed quietly, head resting on Draco’s pillow and unwrapped a chocolate frog, watching as it sprang onto the bedpost with feigned interest. He plucked up the frog and took a bite of it, deciding that as long as his mouth was full, he could get away with mumbled answers if they asked him anything.

“Honestly,” Pansy sighed, flipping her hair out of her face. “If my family wasn’t so soft, I’m sure they’d blast people out like your mother’s family.” She plucked a bean out of the pile next to her on the bed and chewed into it. Her face contorting in disgust. “But, I guess I can’t complain.”

Harry sucked on the chocolate frog, feeling it melt against his tongue. He lifted up the card and peered down at Dumbledore’s face. The elder wizard pushed up his glasses and offered a smile and a wave and Harry turned the card over. He had never actually read Dumbledore’s card before. Why bother, since he was their Headmaster? Harry shot up in bed so fast he nearly choked on his candy and smacked Draco on the back so hard he could feel the impact and hear it crack loudly in the air as he gulped down a breath.

“I...” Harry coughed. “I found him!”

“Who?” Pansy asked, massaging a circle into Draco’s now abused lower back. 

“Flamel! I found him!”


	11. Once More With Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to past violence

Pansy arched a brow and plucked the card Harry was waving about and read it. “Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times - I’d argue that - Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindlewald in 1945... Dragon’s blood...  _Nicholas Flamel_!” Pansy beamed and looped and arm around Harry’s neck before pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Brilliant, you are! Now we know where we can start looking!” Pansy bounced off Draco’s bed and held the card aloft with a flourish. “To the library!”

They scrambled off to the library in an excited rush and Pansy climbed up the ladder to reach the upper books before plucking out various texts before they headed to the comfortable chairs to start reading. The one drawback, Harry had found, as he turned the page in another ancient tome, was that Wizarding books very rarely had indexes. He pushed his glasses on top of his head and rubbed his forehead and eyes as he squinted down at the blur on the page. 

This was the very definition of a wild goose chase. 

“I got it!” 

Draco stood up from his chair and made his way towards the table in the middle of the room. He slammed the book down and Harry winced. It was probably a priceless text. Draco pointed to the large inked section and Pansy skimmed it, humming softly while Draco stood there looking smug and proud of himself. 

“Oh,” Pansy finally uttered as she straightened up.

“Oh?” Harry echoed questioningly.

Pansy nodded and brushed a hair back from her face. “Nicolas Flamel is famous for making the Philosopher's Stone.”

Draco’s eyes fell to the pages. “ _Oh._ ” 

Harry frowned, feeling left out. “And what, exactly, is the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“What, you don’t know?” Pansy inquired, genuine shock on her face.

Harry crossed his arms and scowled at her. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t have the benefit of growing up in a Qizarding family like you two.”

Pansy looked put out for a moment and she and Draco traded a look that might have been shameful before Pansy looked back at Harry. “The Philosopher’s Stone is an object, according to legend, that can turn any metal into gold and any liquid into the Elixir of Life.” 

Harry frowned, not understanding the problem. The stone was probably safe inside Hogwarts. It was under a three headed dog after all. Then Harry remembered the break-in at Gringotts, and the troll, and the fact his broom had been acting funny. And suddenly he understood. And it was, in fact, A Very Big Problem.

“Oh.”

Pansy and Draco nodded, their expression grim. The three eleven year olds traded looks, unsure of exactly what to do. 

That revelation killed the fun of the day, and it was a subdued Pansy that flooed home. Shortly after, Harry went to bed, exhausted from the emotional week. Draco, however, stayed up a little later, wanting to talk to his mother.

He found her in the foyer, a book perched on her lap. When he entered, she glanced up and smiled. The expression fell when she saw her son’s grave look. Draco climbed up on the sofa and leaned against her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked him, worry beginning to trickle into her voice.

Draco didn’t answer for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “It’s Harry,” He finally began.

Frowning, she closed the book. “Did you two have a fight?” She asked. So far as she was aware, the boys hadn’t had more than some slight disagreements, and she did not look forward to the day it escalated beyond that.

A shaken head was her answer. “No, nothing like that. It’s just...a couple nights ago, before we went to sleep, Harry said something weird.” Draco picked his head up to look his mother in the eye. “He said this was his first Christmas. How is that possible?”

Narcissa was quiet for a moment, clearly assimilating that information. She compared it to the impressions she already had from the boy, and didn’t like the picture it painted. In the end, she shook off the idea. Surely that wasn’t the case. She was probably just jumping to conclusions.

Instead she wrapped a comforting hand around Draco, rubbing his back. A small part of her was happy to see Draco worrying about someone outside of their little family unit, while an equal part lamented it. Her son was growing up. “Perhaps his relatives don’t celebrate the holidays.” She offered lightly.

Expression clearing, Draco nodded slowly. “Oh, I didn’t think of that. That makes sense.” He nodded again, this time decisively. “Thank you, Mother.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and hopped down off the sofa. “Good night.” 

As her son left, Narcissa’s expression darkened slightly. Picking the book back up, her eyes rolled over the words but didn’t catch any of it. She was overreacting. There was no way the  _Boy-Who-Lived_  had family problems. Someone would have caught it by now.

Still feeling somewhat uncomfortable, she spelled the book back into its proper place and went upstairs to her own bed. A nice rest would knock these silly ideas out of her head.

~*~

Compared to Christmas, New Years was a very quiet affair. The boys spent the hours until midnight playing games in their room. When the clock hit 12 AM, several chimes went off throughout the house, and the parents peered into the room to with them a Happy New Year and to tell them to go to bed.

A few days after that found them at the platform. Narcissa apparated the boys there, and Harry didn’t find the sensation any easier to take the second time. Once in public, the warm family morphed into the cool, collected masks that were their personas. Harry wasn’t sure if he was more amused by the lie or saddened by it. What did it say that they felt they had to cover up how much they loved each other?

Lucius magicked their bags into the back compartments, and the regal and cool versions of the Malfoys bade their son and his friend goodbye - the real parting had taken place before they left at the manor, where Narcissa had fussed over Draco, while Lucius had fondly clapped the boy on the shoulder and told him to keep up the good work from last semester during this term.

Harry and Draco found a compartment, and were soon discovered by Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle found them shortly into the trip, but Draco kicked them out, imperiously declaring that the three had Very Important Business to discuss, and that they were not invited. After a moment of confusion, the two left. Harry did feel bad for them, despite the fact that they didn’t really seem to mind being sent elsewhere. They had sent Draco Christmas presents after all, and the treatment seemed rude. On the other hand, the boys were loud and slightly creepy, and it was something of a relief that he wouldn’t be stuck in a compartment with them for several hours.

All three had recovered from their shock on Boxing Day with the ease of children, and they quickly found themselves getting into the mystery of it. Clearly the Stone had been moved to Hogwarts to protect it from being stolen, as the break-in at Gringotts proved. But the interesting question was  _who_  was trying to steal it.

“Maybe it was one of the Weasleys.” Draco joked, clearly enjoying pointing the finger. “Or all of them even. If anyone needs something that changes lead into gold...” His snickers faded in the wake of Harry’s severe frown.

“It could be Filch.” Harry offered with a shrug. “He’s always around that area, and he seems crazy enough to try and get passed Fluffy for it. Besides, he hates his job so much he’d probably do anything to get the gold so he doesn’t have to work at Hogwarts anymore.”

Pansy smirked at the idea, but then looked thoughtful. “What about Snape?” She ventured. “He was limping after the thing with the troll, like he’d try to get past Fluffy, and he might have been cursing your broom.” The more she thought about it the more she seemed to warm up to the idea. “He’s so shady, too. Who knows what he’s up to.”

Shaking his head, Harry responded, “Not him.” At the curious glances he got, Harry realized he had never told them about the mirror. “We, uh...We talked, right before we went on break. There’s a reason for all the stuff he did, so I don’t think it could be him.” Draco frowned at the vague answer, and Harry shrugged helplessly. It really wasn’t his place to say anything. Both understood about keeping secrets, however, and didn’t pry.

“Well, then, maybe it’s Quirrell.” Pansy replied, her voice light. At the strange glances she got from Draco and Harry, she grinned. “In mystery novels it’s always the person who you least expect. Who would think that P-p-professor Q-quirrell was after the Stone?” Her imitation of Quirrel’s voice was surprisingly good, and the conversation paused as the three broke out into laughter.

Draco, once he had his chuckles under control, rolled his eyes. “This is the real world, Pansy. No way it’s Quirrel.”

Slapping his arm lightly, Pansy returned, “It was a joke, you git.” 

From there the conversation devolved into insulting one another, before Draco pulled out a chess set that his father had given him after receiving it from an official in the Department of Magical Transportation. They took turns going at each other until they arrived.

The school seemed different somehow when Harry stepped into the Front Hall again. He adjusted his tie, which was still hanging loosely around his neck from when he and Pansy had gotten into a heated game of gobstones on the carriage ride to the school. Suddenly his tie knotted itself and slipped up to his neck tightly, smooth and neat and Harry gave a quiet gag when it knotted just a bit too tight. He looked around a moment and gave a sheepish smile when he saw Professor McGonagall frowning in his direction, tapping her wand lightly against her arm. Note to self, look perfect upon return. 

“Heya, Harry.” 

Harry looked over at the voice over the bustle of friends seeing each other again and waved at Ron. “‘Lo, Ron. Christmas alright?”

“Wasn’t bad. Thanks for the candies. I finally got Ptolemy’s card in the pack you sent me.”

Harry nodded his head, watching as Ron was joined by the round faced boy - Neville - his brain supplied and Granger. He nodded at them amicably and waded around the sea of students to stand near them by the stairs. 

“I got you something, I didn’t know your addresses but...” He dug into the small bag on his shoulders and pulled out two sleek, wrapped gifts. The first one, which he handed to Hermione, was a book on advanced potion making he had found in Flourish and Blotts. The other, which he handed to Neville, was a set of quills and different coloured inks. 

“That’s...” Hermione breathed out, her eyes wide as she cradled the gift against her chest. “That’s very decent of you Harry, thank you.” 

Harry nodded his head and pushed up his glasses with the back of his hand. “Well, I better be going. Happy late Christmas.” 

Harry hopped off the step and threw himself through the crowd to rejoin Pansy and Draco, who were looking at him like he grew a second head. 

“That...” Draco looked over at Hermione who had unwrapped her gift and was jumping up and down delightedly. “Was strangely Gryffindor of you.” 

“Mmm.” Pansy nodded her head in agreement and eyed Hermione, pursing her lips as she studied the Muggle-born. “Well, come along, let’s get to the Common Room, I want to see if Blaise liked the spice cake my mum made him.”

Draco followed after Pansy quickly and Harry moved to follow but a grip on his arm made him stop. He turned his head and blinked up at Dumbledore, who was watching him intently.

“Did you have a lovely Christmas?”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

“Wonderful.” Dumbledore nodded his head and released Harry’s arm to tent his fingers. “I saw that exchange just now between you and Ms. Granger and Mr. Longbottom. Quite a display, don’t you think?”

“I... I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t aware we weren’t allowed to make friends outside of our House. I’ll --”

“Tut-tut, I was praising you, dear boy. Five points to Slytherin for your generosity. Now, go head and move along.” 

Harry nodded his head, a small smile on his lips as he turned and merged into the flow of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins moving down into the dungeon so he could head into his Common Room. He gave the password -  _metamorphmagus_  - and passed through the archway feeling light. 

~*~

The next day, which was a Sunday, they arrived back on a weekend to give them time to adjust, Harry had a lesson with Professor Snape. He arrived in the classroom with his cauldron and a positive attitude. He had wanted to bring his Professor a gift, but had no idea what to buy him, so he had settled instead, on purchasing a well-thought out Christmas card. He had even written a long thank you note (almost half a roll of parchment) and tucked it inside. Harry had picked the card because it was simple; a snow scene where the snow fell softly and every so often wildlife, such as snow owls swooped through the sky. But the selling point for Harry had been the deer that walked through the trees every fifteen minutes like clockwork. Well, that and the message inside the card. 

However, after he had sent the card several days before Christmas, he hadn’t received a reply. Maybe he had overstepped his bounds. Maybe he was supposed to simply acknowledge the older man in the classroom and never address him outside of it. He entered the room, which was empty, but his usual desk was set up and the book he had been study was open to a page, and various vials and implements were stretched out on the desk. Harry approached slowly, and peered down at the potion on the page. It was a fairly basic headache cure. 

Harry looked up at a noise and saw Professor Snape swooping in from the back rooms. He closed the door and charmed it. Harry always wondered if the room behind there was some sort of inner sanctum or his chambers. Possibly both. He nodded his head in greeting. 

“Hello, Professor.”

Snape gave a curt nod. “Mr. Potter, thank you for being prompt.”

Harry gave a feeble smile. “No problem. I... I was wondering... I did send you an owl over Christmas, had you received it?”

Freezing, the professor’s eyes tracked to Harry’s face. He stared for a long moment, searching for something. Harry wasn’t sure if he found what he was looking for, but the man gave a curt nod. “Yes, I did. Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Harry’s smile became stronger, while Snape’s expression went blank.

Slender fingers tapped the pages of the book, and Harry ducked his head back down to look at the instructions. A glance at Snape confirmed that he was to start, and with a wave of his wand the cauldron began to heat.

This time, Harry found the professor’s hints helpful. He had an endless supply of little tips, like strategies for cutting plants versus animals, or differing ways of holding the stirring rod depending on the speed he was supposed to mix it at.

Through it all, Harry noticed that the professor’s hand kept sliding in and out of his pockets. The first few times he didn’t think anything of it, but when it persisted throughout the entire lesson, Harry started to worry a bit. Was there something in his pocket that Professor Snape wanted to deal with? For the man to do something so obvious a First Year could notice it, it must be awfully important. Guilt gnawed at him for a moment, but the professor’s previous warnings kept him from saying anything.

Finally, he poured a portion of his potion into a vial and handed it to Snape. The professor carefully examined it, twirling it in his hand to examine the consistency. “Slightly thinner than average. Can you tell me why, Mr. Potter?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I should have let it cool longer before adding the dittany?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling, sir.”

Snape nodded, looking faintly pleased. Or, as pleased as Snape got. “Correct.” He placed the vial on the table in front of Harry, and with a flick of his wand summoned several others. Another motion had the cauldron pouring the potion into the vials. “What effect will the thin texture have?”

Harry had to think for a moment before he could answer. “It will lower the shelf life.”

He got another nod. “Correct. Because of this, these potions will be going to the infirmary.” Harry blinked at the professor, stunned. “Shelf life is rarely a problem at this school, much less for something like a headache potion. The fifth years alone will probably use these up before the week is out.”

More blinking was his response, and Snape looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “T-thank you, sir.” Harry finally managed, a smile spreading across his face.

“Do not thank me. I assure you, that had your potion not been of the proper quality you would be hearing about it.” Snape eyed him and Harry nodded. He had expected as much. “Now, I think you have used up enough of my time.” The phrase had no heat behind it, and the boy only smiled a bit. “Run along now.” 

Harry took a moment to clean up the station a bit, where some of the more unpleasant items had oozed, before grabbing his bag. Before left, he paused and turned to his teacher. “Thank you again for doing this, Professor. I meant what I said in that note - you really didn’t have to.”

A dry look what his response. “What have I said about offering my time?” Snape drawled, and Harry ducked his head and nodded, feeling a bit pleased. “Have a good evening, Mr. Ev-Potter.” Snape twitched slightly at his own words, and his hand dove back into his pocket. After a moment it reappeared, and this time Harry could see the corner of the card he had given the man peeking out. 

Giving no sign that he’d noticed either - no way he’d appreciate that - Harry waved and smiled. “Bye, Professor.” He ducked out quickly, dragging his feet slightly as he tried to figure out what the professor had almost said. 

As he made his way back to the common room, it struck him.  _Evans_. Snape had seen his mother in the mirror. 

Did he remind Snape of his mother?


	12. Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Non-graphic references to past violence

The idea of having a connection with Lily in some way made Harry’s heart soar, and he pressed his bag to his chest and muttered the password, ‘Knotgrass’.    He stumbled into the Common Room with a small, private smile.

When he got into the Common Room, Harry saw Pansy and Draco sitting on one of the couches and joined them.  The two of them blinked at his expression.

“Someone hit you with a Cheering Charm or something?”  Draco asked, one eyebrow arching.

Harry shook his head, silent.  He was kind of afraid to talk about it, like if the words escaped him the feelings would fly out with them.  Instead he settled in next to Draco, pressing himself against the other boy’s side.

At first Draco blinked at him, confused, but he evidently decided it would do no good to ask questions, and instead pressed back and continued his conversation with Pansy.  The girl blinked at the two of them, and shared a look with Draco.

They stayed like that, Harry revealing in the new found connection with the mother he didn’t remember, and Draco and Pansy offering all the quiet companionship they could until dinner.

~*~

“We should see Hagrid,” Harry suggested. 

Time really did fly when they were in their classes and already almost two full months had gone by since their return to Hogwarts. They had been researching Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher’s Stone as much as they could between their classes and they were getting no further on the idea of who could try to steal the Stone. 

“I don’t i>want</i> to see Hagrid,” Pansy whined, pouting over her Herbology textbook. 

“If he got the Stone for Dumbledore to protect, then they must have some kind of clue about who they need to protect it  _from_.”

Pansy let out an over dramatic, exasperated sigh and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “ _Fine_ , we’ll go after dinner.”

Draco shot a look at Pansy before wincing when she kicked him hard in the shin. He glowered at her and rubbed his aching shin before flipping open his Charms textbook. He looked at the piece of parchment on the table and at up straighter. He swished-flicked and “’Wingardium leviosa!’” 

“We already know that one, you git.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Why not try something new?”

“Well, let’s see you do something perfect, Mr. Potter,” Draco retorted, falsely snide. 

Harry snorted and rolled up the sleeves of his robe and pulled out his wand. He gripped it firmly and gave it a wave. “Engorgio!” The piece of parchment tripled in size and Pansy applauded politely. 

“Where’d you learn that one?”

“In one of the books at Draco’s house. I thought it was kind of cool.”

“How d’you get it back?” Draco asked dryly.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and earned a cushion to the face for his efforts. He righted his glasses on his face and glared at Draco who smirked and stuck his tongue out. Harry rolled his eyes at the display and turned the page in his book and looked to Pansy. “Why don’t you try the Knockback Jinx?”

Pansy nodded and flourished her wand. She held it upright for a few long moments, concentrating before she slashed downward. “’Flipendo!’”

Harry gave a cry when the spell hit him full force in the chest and he toppled backward in his chair and landed on the floor. He lay there a moment, splayed out before he rolled onto his side and picked himself up. He righted his glasses once again, and smoothed down his hair to no avail. “Brilliant.”

Before long it was dinner and they lounged about afterward for a while, enjoying the heat of the fire in the cold dungeon. The snows were already melting, but it was still chilly. When the last few people trickled off to bed, Harry slid close to Pansy and Draco, who were in a heated game of chess and looked at them.

“We should go and see Hagrid.”

“Now?” Pansy whispered and shot a look at the clock in the corner. “It’s past curfew.”

Harry grinned slyly. “I’ve got it covered.”

Pansy’s brow rose when Harry produced the shimmering, multi-coloured fabric. “What’s that?”

Draco’s grin turned wicked and he bounced up from his spot and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “You’re a genius.”

Harry draped the cloak over his shoulders, causing his body to vanish and he lifted his arm. “Come on, we can all fit if we squeeze in tight.” 

Pansy gaped but quickly scrambled under the cloak and attached herself to Harry’s side. Draco bustled in as well, wrapping around Pansy. Harry let the cloak fall, covering all of them in the magical fabric and they headed out. 

Once they reached the hut, Pansy promptly grabbed the cloak and inspected it.  After a moment of that, she smacked at Harry, who quietly squawked.   “You didn’t tell me you had an  _Invisibility Cloak_.”

“Someone gave it to me for Christmas, and I forgot to mention it after.”  He shrugged.  “Can we discuss this later?”  Pansy sulked at him, but nodded.

They knocked on the door, and there was a loud commotion, like something very large had been dropped.  After a moment, Hagrid appeared in the door, looking strangely guilty.  “What’re you three doin’ here?”  He demanded, uncharacteristically short.  There was another noise, and he turned and gazed back into the house.  Fang let out a whimper and scampered past Hagrid, diving under the hut and curling up.

For a moment, no one spoke, before Hagrid finally broke.  “Alright, c’mon in.”  The three traded glances and cautiously stepped into the house.  At first it looked fairly normal, if messier than normal, but then what looked like a bundle of dragon skin moved.  And dragon skin was certainly part of it.

Draco squeaked and scrambled back, looking tempted to follow Fang’s example.  However, he ran into Hagrid, who barely seemed to notice him.  Instead, his black eyes were looking at the dragon with an expression of...pride?

“Norbert, we’ve got guests!”  Hagrid declared, and the dragon, apparently named Norbert, coughed up a little tongue of flame.  “Oh, look’it you!  Such a healthy thing!”  Hagrid puffed out his chest like a proud papa.

It took a moment before Harry was able to say  _anything_  about this sight.  “Hagrid...where did the dragon come from?”

“Well that’s a silly question, innit?  Came from an egg, just like all dragons.”  After a moment the huge man started.  “Oh, you mean...I got him of a Greek fellow down in Hogsmede.  Won ‘em in a game of cards.”  Hagrid’s eyes tracked off as he remembered.  “‘M not usually the best at cards, but I knew if I ever needed to win a game...”  He smiled than, and Pansy let out a scared little squeak.

Recovering somewhat, Draco sputtered at the man.  “Surely you can’t be serious!”  At Hagrid’s confused look, he continued.  “You can’t keep this thing!  It’s beyond dangerous.  And illegal.”  The man looked like he had something to say about that, but he quickly schooled himself.  Harry was glad.  He really didn’t want to know what he’d been about to say.  

When Hagrid still didn’t look convinced, Pansy tried.  “But you live in a hut.  A  _wooden_  hut!  I give it a week before this place is cinders.”  

That got Hagrid’s attention, and he looked around, as if considering.  Harry paused for a minute before trying a different angle.  “Besides, think of...Norbert.  He’s gunna get a lot bigger, right?  He won’t be happy hidden away in your home, or in the forest - he’s meant to fly.”  The huge man’s eyes teared up a bit, and he gazed at Norbert with a mournful air.

“Figure yur right.”  He finally sighed, a frown twisting his lips.  “But I dunno what I could do with ‘im.  Ministry might even put poor Norbert down if they catch wind of this.”

There was silence for a moment, as they pondered that.  After a moment, Draco groaned and buried his head in his arms.  “What is it?”  Pansy asked, looking like she regretted voicing the question.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we need Weasley.”  Everyone blinked at him, and he sulked for a moment before continuing.  “One of his older brothers works at a Dragon Reserve.  I remember Father talking about how he couldn’t believe someone would let their child work there...”  His imperious rant was quelled by equally stern looks from Harry and Hagrid.

Harry considered that.  “You think his brother could take him?”

A snort was his answer.  “All the Weasleys basically ever have ended up in Gryffindor.  I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance.”

And thus the next morning Harry cornered Ron at breakfast and quickly explained the situation.  After getting over his alarm that there was a dragon at Hogwarts, the redhead agreed to owl his brother, and Harry lent him Hedwig.  

By dinner they got a reply that Charlie would send some friends to pick up the dragon.  The catch was that since this entire operation was rather on the not-so-legal side of things, they couldn’t be seen with it.  Thus they had to get the dragon to the top of tallest tower.  At midnight.

Considering Harry’s invisibility cloak, this didn’t seem quite so bad as it would have otherwise.  That evening, Ron, Harry and Draco (the cloak could only fit three, and Pansy was the least physically fit.  At least Draco played Quidditch), along with Norbert the crated Dragon, made their way up to the tower.

Between all of them, they managed to get to the tower and hand off Norbert with little fuss.  Unfortunately, on the way down, a moving staircase caught the end of the cloak, and it pulled off of them.  As the three First Years retrieved it, Filch came barely down the hallway, clearly having heard them.

Within 20 minutes the three first years were sitting in McGonagall’s office, across from the clearly recently woken Head of House.  A few minutes later, a rumpled looking Snape entered, his eyes hard and cold as they surveyed his two First Years.  

“What were you three thinking?”  McGonagall snapped at them.  “All of you should know better than to go wandering the halls at night.  Just a few months ago there was a troll wandering these halls!”  Her eyes gazed at each student individually, and they squirmed uncomfortably.  “50 points!  For each of you!” 

At that they shared horrified looks, which only got worse at Snape opened his mouth.  “A detention is in order as well.”  He rumbled, eyes fixed on Harry.  They looked colder than they had since the first day of school, and also something kind of sad, like a broken promise.

McGonagall nodded.  “Quite right.  You will all be serving detention with Mr. Filch.”  Ron opened his mouth to protest, but two fierce glares shut him up instantly.  “Now, I will be escorting Mr. Weasly to bed and Professor Snape will be escorting Misters Potter and Malfoy, since none of you can be trusted to get to your beds yourselves.”  

It was three very subdued First Years who left the office, Harry most of all.  Sure, he felt awful about losing those points, and their housemates were going to be right pissed off, but the disapproval and anger in Snape’s eyes hurt far worse.

He dropped them off in the Common Room without a word, instead turning and immediately slipping out the passageway.  Harry glanced after him for a moment, heart feeling like it was trying to crawl its way into his stomach.

Draco and Harry shared a long look, before heading up to their dorms, slipping in without waking any of the other boys, and exchanging quiet good nights.

Three nights later Harry, Draco and Ron were following Filch across the frosty, soggy field towards Hagrid’s hut. Harry pulled his Slytherin scarf higher around his ears and tucked his hands into his robes. Beside him he saw Draco trace his wand in a quick half circle with a mutter of ‘lumos’ and the wand tip lit like a torch. Harry quickly did the same, and on his other side, Ron quickly mimicked the charm, though his wand shot off a few sparks in the process. 

“Well, here we are then,” Filch announced with a nasty smile and presented them to Hagrid with a flourish. “Your little helpers.”

“Oh great,” Ron grumbled, ducking his head into his scarf as his breath billowed out.

Harry stomped on his foot. “Hush, would you rather serve with Hagrid or Filch?”

Ron glared at Harry. “It’s his fault we’re here in the first place.”

“The Weasley has a point, y’know.” Draco’s face was illuminated by the pale blue tip of his wand. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d say.” 

“If it were up to me all three a’ ya would be hanging in the dungeons by your thumbs.” Filch gave them a grin with his crooked, yellow teeth. “But, as it is, you’ll be helping Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest.”

“The  _Forbidden Forest_ , are you mad?” Draco’s eyes were wide as he looked between the two staff members. “It’s  **forbidden**. Says so in the name. We aren’t allowed in!”

“Professor Dumbledore has granted the three of you special leniency,” Filch responded, sounding far too happy. “Night-night.”

Harry watched Filch retreat with a growing sense of dread and turned back to Hagrid, gulping. “We’re not really going in there, are we, Hagrid?”

“‘Fraid so, Harry. Summat’s been attackin’ the unicorns. I found one in a real bad state the other day. Dumbledore reckons some kind of nasty is after them. So, we’ll be huntin’ it down.” Hagrid patted his crossbow with a smile. “Now, if you find something, just shower some sparks in the air and Ron an’ I will come running.”

“What do you mean you and Ron?” Draco asked, before slowly putting things together. “You’re splitting us up? And sending us into the Forest alone? Where there are werewolves?”

“Oh calm down, Malfoy. Full moon’s not until next week. If it’ll make you feel better, you can have Fang.” Hagrid handed off the large, thick leash to Harry. “Right. Off we go.”

Ron shot a terrified look at Draco and Harry before following after Hagrid, who was lighting the way with his lantern. Harry shot back a sympathetic look before he tugged on Draco’s robes so they could head into the Forest. Draco gave a piteous moan before following Harry into the darkness.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s degrading.”

Harry kept his mouth firmly clamped shut. If Draco thought walking through a forest looking for a unicorn was degrading, what would he think of what Harry had done for his aunt and uncle all those years? Instead, Harry flicked his wand, sending the burst of light forward to help them navigate. They met up with Ron and Hagrid not far into the Forest and Hagrid was bent over a pool of silvery liquid, tracing his fingers through it. 

“Hagrid,” Harry started, voice low, “What is that?”

“Unicorn blood. There’s go’ to be one round here that’s been hurt bad. Ron and I will go this way,” Hagrid pointed with the silvery fingers, “you and Malfoy go that way.”

Harry nodded his head grimly and lowered his eyes back to the pool of blood, his stomach turning in horror. Draco was already pretty far ahead, muttering quietly as he tripped over roots and rocks, by the time he looked up and Harry raced to catch him. 

“I hate this,” Draco snapped, pulling his foot loose of a root.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“I’m not scared. Malfoys don’t get scared.”

Harry eyed Draco a long moment before he lost his footing and tumbled down an incline. Fang bounded up behind him, slobbering over his face to make sure he was alright. Harry pushed him off and sat up, hand patting the ground for his glasses. 

“Here.”

Harry curled around the glasses Draco held out, and put them on. “Thanks.” 

“Come on, I thought I heard something coming from down there.”

Harry watched Draco move and shook his head. Now Draco was being stupid and trying to prove he wasn’t scared. Harry pulled himself up and brushed off the back of his robes before he followed after Draco. Draco had stopped short and extinguished his wand. Harry bumped into the back of him, and with a quick look from Draco did the same. 

A unicorn was lying, quietly huffing, less than a hundred feet away. It was alive, only barely, it’s eyes were closed and it was making quiet, pitiful noises between its laboured breathing. Its side was split and there was...  _something_  there. Both boys stared in horror, transfixed to the spot, and watched as whatever the creature was, lap at the unicorn blood. 

Harry felt bile rise in his throat and his head was pounding terribly. He stumbled in place and dropped his wand, his hands rising up to press against his temples as his vision started to blur. Beside him Draco shifted uncomfortably, his breathing shallow and he was making almost silent whimpering noises. Fang was cowering and before long the boarhound had bounded off into the forest. 

Harry swayed dangerously on his feet and Draco caught hold of him as he went down. Draco clutched at his wand and brandished it, sending up a cascade of brilliant purple sparks. The thing was moving. Harry cried out loudly and Draco fell back, eyes wide with fright, and Harry was pretty sure Draco was screaming, but he could barely hear anything over the pounding in his head. 

It took a moment to distinguish the thundering of hooves from the noise in his head, but then a centaur jumped out of the woods and into the clearing.  It - no, he - brandished his hooves at the creature.  It flinched back, and seemed to glance directly at Harry.  The pain in his head reached a new high, and Harry reached up to rub at his forehead, barely aware of what he was doing.  Finally it seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth it, and it seemed to glide away from them.

The centaur walked up to the boys, as Harry slowly came back to himself.  Two arms were wrapped around him like a vice, and Draco was half buried in his shoulder, one eye watching the approaching centaur with fear mixed with some strange resolve.  His hand shook as it held the wand, knuckles white with tension.

“Harry Potter.”  The centaur intoned, more like he was discovering some great secret than acknowledging Harry.  “It will not be distracted for long.  Please come with me.”

Draco snorted at him, brandishing his wand just a bit higher.  “Not likely,” He nearly growled, voice shaky and low with fright.

Before the blonde could protest, both boys were lifted bodily and placed on the centaur’s back, and Draco was just barely able to snatch up Harry’s wand before they were off.  They dashed at high speeds through the forest, and Draco clung to Harry even tighter.  In just a couple of minutes they met Hagrid and Ron, who were making their way quickly towards where the purple sparks had been.  “Firenze,”  Hagrid panted, his eyes darting between him and the boys.  “What ‘append?”

“A terrible creature roams these lands.”  Was all Firenze could manage before the boys were sliding off of him, and two more centaurs darted out of the woods.  They looked utterly furious, and one of them - a dark coloured male - started in on him about letting  _humans_  ride on him.

Hagrid interrupted before it could get ugly.  “Now look ‘ere, Bane.  Firenze was just savin’ these boys.  No harm meant.”  Bane looked distinctly unimpressed, and began muttering darkly about the stars and common mules.  Ignoring him, Hagrid turned to Draco and Harry, who were now pressed together, standing next to Ron, who looked equally like he’d rather be anywhere else and like he wanted to know what was going on.  “You two alright?”

“I think so.”  Harry muttered at the same time that Draco shook his head ‘no’.  Harry glanced at the other, and had his wand waved in his face.  He took it, smiling slightly at the other boy in thanks, and Draco just nodded.

There was a moment where the humans took stock of themselves, ignoring Bane as he tore further into Firenze.  “We’ll just be going now, I think.”  Hagrid finally said, ushering the First Years towards Hogwarts. 

Bane opened his mouth to say something, but Firenze interrupted him.  “They are young.”  The dark centaur glanced between the retreating humans and his fellow centaurs, before he stomped one of his front hooves.

“Fine.”

When they got back to Hagrid’s, he patted each one down and asked if they needed to go to the hospital wing.  Receiving three negatives, he sent them off to bed.

The First Years went to their respective dorms and got ready to go to sleep, utterly exhausted.  Before they could slip off, Harry murmured, “Draco?”

There was a moment where Harry thought he’d missed his chance, but then a sleepy voice replied, “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

A snort was his reply.  “Don’t mention it.  Really.  Ever.”


	13. Tea Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Slightly more graphic references to violence and past child abuse

A few days later, Harry had his first lesson with the professor since he’d been in trouble. He arrived with his supplies and hesitated before knocking. This particular session was something he’d be dreading almost as much as the one after his first Quidditch game. At least that time it hadn’t been nearly a week for him to worry about it.

When he knocked, the door swung open. The cauldron and book were open like normal, and Snape was standing in front of them, arms crossed and looking very cold. Harry gulped. “Hullo, Professor.”

“Mr. Potter.” His tone was clipped and harsh and Harry ducked his head, feeling his stomach twist into knots. “I would think that you would know how to begin, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised if you continue to fall below my expectations.”

Harry gripped his bag and nodded, not looking up. Some little part of him, the bit that had helped him to survive the Dursleys all those years, took hold. He kept his head down as he checked the potion - a Forgetfulness Potion. He silently got to work, afraid any more words from him would be taken as ‘lip’.

He began preparing the ingredients. Unlike how he’d given pointer and tips before, Snape snapped out criticisms. “Don’t hold the handle like that.” “Clumsy.” “I suppose that’s alright if you want your potion to end up useless.”

Each of his professor’s words stung, like scratches on his chest. Normally those sorts of comments didn’t bother him - not anymore, anyway. But Harry genuinely liked Snape. The man had been so helpful to him, and nice in a strange sort of way.

And now he had buggered it all up.

Tears began to form in his eyes, and he hunched up his shoulders. Snape made a comment about his poor posture.

Finally, the potion was at a point where it had to be stirred at a specific rate for a few minutes. At first Harry was able to match that, but as his emotions rose his hands began to shake. Soon he lost his rhythm altogether.

“Stupid boy!” Snape snapped a hand out towards Harry, and he was unable to contain his flinch. The jerky movement sent him sprawling backwards over his chair, where he fell hard on the stone floor. Stunned for a moment by the impact, Harry forgot to keep his head down, revealing his hot face to his professor. Slowly, he met Snape’s gaze. The man was staring at him, completely frozen, with one hand resting on the stirring rod. For the first time since he’d been caught that night, the man didn’t look cold or angry. Just confused.

Something in Harry shattered, and a quiet sob escaped him. He curled up on himself, and began muttering, “I’m sorry” over and over.

There was a long moment where Snape seemed like he had no idea what to do with himself. Then he fell to his knees beside the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched away from that, bringing his arms up to protect his head and vulnerable neck.

Dark eyes widened as he recognized that pose. It was one he’d adopted against his own father when he was young.

Rather than try to touch the boy again, Snape murmured, “Mr. Potter?” His voice was the softest it’d been in years. Harry didn’t react. “Mr. Po- Harry. Harry.”

Finally, green eyes peered up at him, tear stained. Slowly, recognition and shame bled into them, and Harry carefully unraveled himself, glancing away from his professor. The boy slowly stood on shaky legs and remained silent for a moment. His eyes tracked over to the potion, which had turned a dark colour during their inattention.

“Should I start over, sir?” His voice was blank and just slightly subservient. 

Snape hadn’t thought anything could have hurt him more than those eyes.

“Leave it,” He responded, and his voice must have been too sharp, because the boy’s shoulders hunched back up. “It’s not important.”

The professor disappeared into that mysterious door on the other side of the room, and Harry swallowed heavily, wondering if he should make a break for it. What was he doing? Visions of belts and canes flashed behind his eyes, and Harry glanced back at the door to the hallway. It was best to stay where he was. Punishments were always worse if he ran.

Finally, Snape returned, and Harry kept his head down, preparing for the hit. Instead there was the sound of pouring liquid, and a teacup appeared under his nose. Harry jerked back from it, and then blinked as he registered what it was. Startled, he looked up, to see his professor gesturing for the seat he’d been in before.

Slowly, Harry sat, taking a small sip of the tea. It was chai. Snape worked at his own cup, looking strangely awkward. “Harry,” He began, looking at the liquid rather than him. “Would you care to explain that reaction?”

Harry shook his hand frantically, shame clawing at his throat. No, he most certainly did not want to talk about it. Ever.

“I phrased that poorly. Tell me about why you are acting this way.”

Spinning the cup in his hand, Harry shrugged. “I dunno.” 

The sigh Snape released seemed to hang in the air like dust. There was a moment of silence, and Harry chanced looking up. Dark eyes were watching him intently, a touch of something like empathy in his eyes. Harry flushed, uncomfortable. “It’s just... It’s how I am, I guess. Freaky.” He shrugged. 

That last word sounded almost rehearsed, and Harry frowned at his cup. Snape mirrored his expression, his mixed with a touch of thoughtfulness. “That reaction was a learned response.” He noted, and Harry just shrugged one shoulder. He was done talking. It never did any good. In fact, it normally did the opposite.

When he glanced up next, Snape was nearly right in front of him, and Harry jerked hard enough to spill tea onto his shirt. The professor took the cup gently from him and placed it on the table next to the ruined potion. “Harry,” At his name, green eyes slowly tracked up. Snape carefully raised one hand, inching it forward like he was reaching out to touch a frightened animal.

Finally, his hand touched down gently on the top of Harry’s head and patted him softly, fingers carding through his hair. Harry stared at him in open shock, while Snape regarded him with a serious expression. “Freak? No. They’re just not special like you.” Somehow those words felt very significant, even if he didn’t really understand their meaning. Harry nodded slightly, more in acknowledgement of his words than in actual agreement. The professor seemed to understand that, and slid his fingers between locks of hair one more time before retreating.

“Maybe next time you’ll feel like sharing more.” Snape offered. Harry shrugged, not really thinking so, but grateful for the reprieve. The man turned back to his desk and grabbed two vials, handing them both to the boy. “This one is Pepper-Up Potion. I imagine that would be helpful for getting through the rest of the day.” Harry offered a wan smile at that and nodded a bit. “The other is Dreamless Sleep.” He didn’t elaborate on that one, for which Harry was thankful. 

Taking a step back, the professor nodded to the door. “I’m sure you’d like to get back to your friends.” Harry was less sure, but nodded and took the Pepper-up. He handed the vial back to Snape, who placed it on his desk, then turned to leave.

Before he exited, Harry turned around. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t think of a way to quite voice to his feelings at the moment. Instead he paused and muttered, “Thank you. See you later, Professor.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

By the time Harry arrived in the Common Room, the Pepper Up potion had kicked in and he was feeling less glum. The tear tracks vanished from his face and his runny nose and swollen eyes disappeared. The only downside, if it could be called that, was the steam pouring from his ears. It tickled in a strange way and Harry rounded his way through the Common Room and headed into his dorm. 

“There you are. How’d it go? Ah! You made a Pepper Up potion I see. That’s amazing- it’s quite advanced.”

Harry managed a smile, though he was pretty sure it was more of a grimace in Draco’s direction as he flopped onto his bed and tugged off his robes. He kicked off his shoes and sprawled out on the bed in his trousers and undershirt. He pulled out the vial of Dreamless Sleep and turned it in his fingers. 

“What’s what for?”

Harry looked over at Draco. “Sleep.”

“Told Professor Snape about your insomnia, did you?”

Harry made a noncommittal noise and figured Draco would interpret it how he wanted. He pulled off his glasses and pulled the stopper out of the vial and took a long drink. It burned down his throat before settling into his stomach and almost instantly made him drowsy. Before long he was sound asleep.

Draco eyed Harry. “Night, then.” With a roll of his eyes, Draco pulled himself off his bed and headed down to the Common Room to see if Pansy wanted to play Exploding Snap. 

~*~ 

“Have you noticed Dumbledore is acting strange?”

“How d’you mean, strange?” 

Harry looked over at Pansy and Draco as they talked over breakfast and he spread orange marmalade onto his toast. He took a bite and turned his head around to look at Dumbledore, who was looking rather under the weather. 

“Dunno. Maybe it’s got something to do with that Stone thing. Maybe someone got close to taking it. We should see if anyone’s limping around.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Pansy and shook his head before turning the page in the  _Prophet_. “Hey, Draco. That night in the woods. Whatever had attacked that unicorn was drinking its blood, right?”

“Yeah, and?” Draco took a bite out of his melon. 

“Why would someone drink unicorn blood?”

“There are  _loads_  of reasons really.” Pansy managed around a mouthful of eggs. Harry cringed at the display. Pansy swallowed. “Unicorn blood is an amazing healing agent. It’s said that if a person was on the brink of death they could drink unicorn blood and be alright. Not like... fixed, but last a while longer. ‘Course, unicorns are so pure that killing on for its blood is really evil. No normal witch or wizard would do that.”

“Maybe that’s why my scar was hurting,” Harry pondered, finishing up his toast with a long swallow of tea. 

“Your scar was hurting?” Draco’s brows creased and he leaned forward, peering at Harry’s forehead. “It’s madness.”

“It hurt the first night here, too. Just for a second. I thought maybe it was Professor Snape, but I’ve spent loads of time with him and nothing’s happened and he was trying to unjinx my broom.”

“He was?” Pansy’s eyes widened in shock and she shot a look up at the head table where Snape was sitting there, sipping from a tea cup. “Maybe he knows something Harry, maybe we should talk to him.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “And say what ‘oh by the way Professor, we know about Fluffy and the... you know what and we think it’s in danger?’ He’ll look at us like we’re barking mad! Tell you what- he’ll give us detention until seventh year because we went up to that bloody corridor and then he’ll look at us like we’re nutters!” 

“It’s worth a try, Harry.”

Harry frowned at Pansy and Draco when they both looked at him pleadingly. He stood up when the bell for first class rang and gathered up his things. “All right. We’ll tell him after Defense.”

Pansy stood. “I hate that class. Professor Quirrell is so boring and he smells like garlic.” 

Draco snorted as he pulled up his bag and they headed up the stairs towards the second floor, pausing briefly to switch staircases when one rotated and headed towards Defense Against the Dark Arts. “He’s not as bad as Professor Binns. I’ll say that much. I pretty much use History of Magic to catch up on my Herbology homework.”

Harry laughed and looped his arm around Draco’s neck as they ducked into Defense Against the Dark Arts and took their seats. 

They class was pretty routine and rather boring. They went through the finer points of casting and projecting the Knockback Jinx. They tried a few back and forth casts and Harry grinned when he managed to not only disarm Blaise, but knock him five feet back. 

Quirrell was especially bumbling. He was tripping over himself and fidgeting at the smallest thing. When the bell to change classes finally rang, he yelped and leaped on top of his stool. Snickering, they Slytherins slipped out of the classroom in amicable moods.

“Come on, let’s go and see Professor Snape now,” Draco urged as they headed to the staircases. 

Pansy glanced up at the clock over the front entrance and frowned. “We’ll be late for Herbology!” 

“Your grades won’t matter if you’re dying,” Draco spat as he rushed down the stairs. “If anything, Professor Snape can write us a note.”

  
Pansy stomped her foot but shot after Draco and Harry quickly followed. They ran into the empty Potions classroom and Draco scowled. 

“Where is he?” Harry asked, looking around the room.

“C’mon, we’ll catch him at lunch!” Pansy rushed from the room before darting back in. “Herbology, come on! We’re finally seeing a specimen of Devil’s Snare today.” 

Draco grumbled but he and Harry raced after Pansy towards Greenhouse One. The Stone would have to wait.


	14. Into the Deep

Herbology was pretty boring. They listened Professor Sprout explain the beauty and quality of the Devil’s Snare  _again_ , before she pulled out a small tank carrying an infant variety of the plant. The greenish tendrils writhed inside the glass, thumping against it wildly and Harry was sure that the glass had to be magically reinforced otherwise it surely would have shattered. 

“Longbottom, why don’t you come here?” Professor Sprout ordered, motioning the Gryffindor forward. 

Neville stepped forward with a nervous anticipation and Professor Sprout pulled him closer by the arm. He swallowed and looked around the room before offering up a smile to the professor, albeit it feeble. 

“Now, we all know the Devil’s Snare will tighten around anything that struggles, how about a practical example?” She pulled out a small little toy and waved her wand at it, causing it to rattle about. “Since we can’t harm anything living, we’ll use this. Now, Longbottom, please drop this into the tank.” 

Neville plucked up the toy and dropped it into the tank before startling back as the plant inside thrashed about, wrapping it’s vines around the toy and squeezing. It wasn’t long before there was a cracking noise as the toy fell apart and the plant stilled. 

“There we are. Now, aside from staying perfectly still, which will make you drop through the Snare, what is another way to prevent harm? Ah yes, Ms. Granger!”

“Devil’s Snare is fond of dank, dark places, so sunlight would surely get rid of it. You could prune back the trees or hedges that it’s skulking under, or, in more dire cases, cast a flame charm.” 

“Excellent! Five points to Gryffindor. Longbottom you can take your seat again.”

Harry watched as Neville walked down the rows of students before taking his seat by Ron and Hermione. Harry offered him a thumbs up of approval before getting cuffed over the back of the head by Pansy. Harry stuck his tongue out at her and threw a handful of soil in her face, making Draco dissolve into snickers. 

Before long the class was over and they went off across the fields for their study period by all observing eyes. While in reality Pansy was dragging Harry, rather uncomfortably, by the tie towards the dungeons while Draco sauntered along casually behind them. 

They reached Snape’s office, and Pansy knocked on it loudly.  She was practically buzzing with excitement.  Harry was less thrilled.  After what had happened in that room last time he was there, he had hoped to gain a bit of emotion distance over the past week.

The door opened, and Snape blinked down at the children.  He gazed at Harry, looking surprised to see him.   Clearly he’d figured out his plan.  Before he could ask, Draco straightened himself out, looking every inch the Malfoy Heir.  “Professor, we have some very important questions for you.”

Snape stared at him for a moment, face blank, but Harry thought he could see a dash of amusement behind his dark eyes.  “Very well.”  He returned, voice try.  “I suppose you should enter, then.”

Filing in, the students stood awkwardly around the desk.  The professor took his time in settling down in his chair, eyeing them.  “What seems to be the problem?”

“There are...things of a questionable nature in this school, aren’t there, Professor?”  Pansy began, her voice conspiratorial.  She leaned forward slightly, as if letting him in on a big secret.  He blinked at her, clearly unimpressed.

Staring seriously at Snape, and ignoring his embarrassment from the last time he’d done so, Harry added, “Something that someone might be very interested in stealing.”

Snape tensed slightly at that, but his face remained blank.  “I imagine there are quite a few items that would fit that description here at Hogwarts.”

A sigh escaped Draco, and the boy shifted impatiently.  Pansy glared at him, before picking up the conversation.  “We’re thinking of a specific item, sir.  One that might need extra protection.  Such as, for example, a three-headed dog.”

For a moment Snape looked like he was going to snarl at them, but his eyes darted to Harry again.  Harry wished he wouldn’t.  Instead, the man raised his hand to his brow and rubbed it.  “Get on with it.”

“Who is trying to steal the Stone?”  Draco blurted out, looking relieved that he didn’t have to dance around it anymore.  

Professor Snape glared at the three.  “I won’t even ask how you know about the Stone.”  He sighed out something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Hagrid’, and Harry hoped they hadn’t gotten the man in trouble.  “Why do you think that the Stone is in danger?”

“Because someone tried to steal it from Gringotts.”  Pansy responded.

Spidery fingers began tapping against his desk, and Snape was starting to look impatient.  “I assure that Hogwarts is the safest place for the Stone - better than even Gringotts.  There are protections in place, as you are well aware.  And even if it wasn’t, why would I ever tell you three about it?”

That stopped the three cold.  There really wasn’t a reason, was there?

Struck by inspiration, Harry replied, “Because if  _we_  figured it out, how difficult could it be for whichever thief was trying to find out about it?”  Snape blinked at him, and Harry somehow felt like he’d won something.  After a moment, Harry sighed, figuring this to be a lost cause.  “Look, could you at least tell the Headmaster that we know?  If we could get this far, some more protections might be wise.”

“Very well,” The professor sighed.  “I will inform him after he returns from the Ministry.”

The children exchanged glances.  “He’s gone?”  Pansy asked, sounding both frightened and thoughtful.

“Yes.  And before you get any silly ideas, the protections around the Stone will hold up just fine without Professor Dumbledore around.”  Pansy ducked her head.  

Draco took a step forward, looking just slightly desperate.  Clearly he could see his exciting adventure slipping away before his eyes.  “Could you at least show us the protections?”

Dark eyes glared at the First Years, and all three jerked back.  “Why should I waste my time doing that?”

“Because,” Draco began, wavering but not giving up, “Otherwise we’ll have to go poking around ourselves, won’t we?”

A groan of pure exasperation escaped Snape, and he looked like was about to just give them a detention and be done with it.  However, Draco and Harry’s adventure in the tower must have proven to him that they were, in fact, stupid enough to do just what they’d threated.  “Alright,” He growled.  “I will show you some of what is down there, if you swear to  _leave_ afterwards.”

Figuring it was the best they were going to get, the First Years nodded, and the professor stalked out of the rooms, pace brisk and filled with irritation.  The three followed behind, exchanging excited and frightful looks.  They got to see what was down there and stay safe at the same time!  This was better than they’d hoped.  Pansy patted Draco on the back, and he puffed up a bit, pleased with himself.

Finally they reached the door to Fluffy, and Snape unlocked it with a flick of his wand.  Instead of the growling and snarling they expected, they were greeted by harp music.  Fluffy was asleep, snoring contentedly.  

Snape froze, and then whirled on the students.  “Stay.  Here.”  He growled, before kicking Fluffy’s paw to the side (the beast grumbled and twitched but didn’t awaken) and opened the trap door.  The professor jumped down it, and then there was silence other than the music.

Without a word, Harry darted forward towards the trap door.  Pansy grabbed the back of his robes and yanked him back.  Startled green eyes gazed back at her, and she glared.  “Are you  _mad_?”  She snarled.  “Professor Snape said to stay here.  Where it’s safe!”

Shaking his head, Harry slipped free of his robes and yanked the door open.  “I can’t let him go alone!  Whoever is trying for the Stone has to be really dangerous!  If he gets hurt because we asked him to come...”  He trailed off for a moment, expression guilty, before he shrugged.  “I can’t.”  With that he jumped down after the professor.

Harry landed in something surprisingly soft, and when he looked down, he could barely make out vines in the low light.  “Stupid!  Are you some kind of Gryffindor?!”  He heard from above, and gazed up to see the silhouettes of Pansy and Draco’s head gazing down at them.  He just shrugged.

A moment later, Draco dropped down, followed by Pansy.  Both looked utterly disgruntled at being there.  At Harry’s surprised look, Draco rolled his eyes.  “Like we could let you go alone.  Besides, now we’re really getting to see what the protections are.”

At his words, they began to notice the vines shift around them, wrapping.  Now that there was slightly more light, the identity of the plant was revealed.  “Devil’s Snare!”  Pansy hissed.  They exchanged terrified glances.

Gulping, Harry tried not to panic.  “What do we do now?”

For a moment, fear clouded their judgment and they began to panic, but then Draco hissed, “Stay still!  They leave things alone that don’t struggle.”  He paused, and then whimpered as a particularly thick vine wrapped around his torso.  “Easier said than done.”

Steeling himself, Harry went limp.  The vines wrapped him up with increased speed, and Pansy let out a squeak at the sight.  Finally, he passed through the rest of the vines, and fell a few heart-stopping feet before landing heavily on the stone.  “Ow.”  He grumbled.

“It worked?”  Draco’s voice shook.

Harry nodded, and then realized they couldn’t see it.  “Yeah, it worked.  Little bit of a fall, so brace yourselves.”

There were a few moments where Harry could only hear their fearful pants, and then Pansy, followed by Draco, slipped out of the vines and landed with little huffs of air.

The three gazed at one another, realizing that they’d gotten through two of the protections.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the next one had better be harder.  This is ridiculous.”  Pansy muttered, dusting herself off.

A door connected this precaution to the next, and they went through it, only to be greeted by the sight of their professor swooping around on a broom, flying into a cloud of what looked like flying keys.

“Professor!”  Harry called, and Snape whirled through the air to stare furiously at them, ignoring the keys and they scratched him.  

“What in the blazes are you three doing down here?”  He snarled.  The keys turned around to have another go at him, and the professor dropped to the floor.  He loomed above them, and the three gulped.

Harry, wanting to avoid Snape’s eyes, gazing around the room.  His eyes fell onto the locked door, and then darted to the keys.  One, larger than the others and looking rather old and large caught his Seeker’s gaze.  The obviously different style played at his mind, and the answer quickly dawned on him, and he turned back to Snape, who still looked furious.  “I can get it!.”  Snape stared at him, expression giving way slightly to confusion.  “I can get the key.”

For a moment, the professor looked torn between absolute fury and the knowledge that they key was necessary to protect the stone.  Finally he snarled and pushed the broom into Harry’s hand.  He swung his leg over it and took to the sky.  The broom was quite a bit older - probably one of the school’s - but it handled well enough.  

The keys flew at Harry, creating slashes in his uniform and making scratches on his face and hands.  He ignored them and flew after that huge key.  It only took a few moments to get it, but then he was able to get his hand around it.  The other keys seemed to buzz angrily, but Harry ignored them as he landed and stuck the one he’d caught into the lock.  It clicked and then the key darted out and flew away as quickly as it could.   Harry turned around to look at the other three, and found Pansy and Draco looking quite excited behind a seething Professor Snape.  Shuddering slightly at the look, Harry opened the door, and the four of them filed into the next room.

The next room was filled with a giant chess set. Harry looked at it wondrously, figuring Professor McGonagall had done the protection. He spotted the door beyond the board and charged forward, ignoring the cries of the others, he made a mad dash for it. The pawns shot up, their swords and shields clanging between their bodies protectively and Harry skidded to a stop with a quick, loud cry. He stepped back, startled, and the pieces returned to their calm, defensive state.

“We have to play across,” Pansy informed, “Right, Professor?”

Snape looked like he was torn between screaming at them and having an aneurysm. He merely gave a jerky nod. “Correct, Ms. Parkinson.” 

They piled at the other end of the chessboard and Snape tapped his wand on a knight, a rook, the King and the Queen and the pieces straightened and marched off the board. Snape’s eyes raked over the three children and he sighed, raising a hand to press against his temples and forced out a slow breath.

“Mr. Malfoy, you take the king, Ms. Parkinson, the rook, Potter, you take the queen and I’ll take the knight.”

“Why am I the queen?” Harry protested, kicking Draco in the shin when the other boy sniggered at him. 

“Because,” Snape responded, whirling in place, “it is the most powerful piece on the board and I do not desire having to look after you. If you have any other protests you may leave.”

Harry shook his head and climbed onto the board, taking the square next to Draco. Pansy took the rook on his far right and Snape took the square directly to his left, with the bishop between them. Snape nodded and watched as the pieces across the board opened with the English Opening. He frowned. It was an open move, leaving a variety of counter-responses. Minerva had done her job well. The pieces knew what they were doing. 

“Queen’s knight to H6.” 

The large stone piece closer to Harry sprang over the pawn and crashed into the board before sliding into place in front of the bishop and pawn. Harry let out a slow breath and clenched and unclenched in nervousness. They had to win. They had to get across the field, otherwise, all bets were off. 

After a while, the pieces were all over the board and Pansy and Draco had castled. Pansy was now blocking a particularly vicious pawn that whenever it could, snarled in her face. Harry had moved a few times, but in very strategic, well placed moves. Harry could tell, as he watched the pieces track over the board, that Snape was a very logical player and thought steps ahead. He didn’t fling the pieces around willy-nilly, he was careful and methodical. Harry wondered if it was because he was playing with people rather than chess pieces, but he didn’t think so. 

One of their pawns shattered as it was attacked by the bishop and Harry raised his hands to block the shards from his face. The white king was backed into a corner and constantly in check, and Harry knew that’s why the other pieces weren’t showing mercy, they were scared. And losing. 

“Rook to B2.”

Pansy strode across the board, stepping over rubble before stopping short. She pivoted in place and looked at the king. “Checkmate!”

The king tossed down his sword and a large crown fell at Pansy’s feet. She beamed and jumped in place, feeling triumphant. Harry rolled his eyes at her as he drew close. “We’re not done yet.”


	15. Stone's Throw

“Go back, Potter. The next two obstacles are extremely difficult, I will be back shortly to assure you that the Stone is fine.” Snape ordered.

Draco shook his head and crossed his arms. “No way. We’ve come this far, haven’t we? We can help you. We’re coming.”

“You idiot.” Snape replied, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t a game. If the Stone is in trouble then there is very real danger to us all. You three can’t even cast the spells you would need to save your life. I’m going alone.”

“Professor!” Harry called as Snape started towards the door. “Why don’t we help you as much as we can and then we’ll go back and fetch help if you need it?”

Snape frowned deeply before giving a sharp nod. “Very well, but you are to do as I say, no questions asked. If I tell you to run, you run, even if it means leaving me alone in sure danger. Am I understood?”

The three First Years nodded their head and Snape threw the door leading to the next room open. The younger students followed him inside and Harry gagged at a loud stench. His hands moved up to cup his nose and mouth and his eyes watered. “What is that?”

“Mountain troll.”

Harry looked over at Snape, whose voice was shocked and traced his teacher’s eyes to the unconscious troll lying on the floor. That definitely didn’t look good. The troll let out a grunt in its unconscious state and Snape skirted past it, making his way towards the door. Harry followed behind quickly with Draco and Pansy on his heels. 

The door behind them swung shut and purple flame blocked it, while the door in front was blocked by black flame. Seven bottles were lined on a shelf next to a roll of parchment. Snape eyed the bottles, before plucking one up, the third from the left and peered into it. He shook it and frowned. 

“The potion to move forward is still in tact. That means whoever passed through this room is one of the seven professors who had the extra potions I brewed.” Snape’s expression was thoughtful and he spun in place, he dug a hand into his robes and pulled out two vials. “I made extra to go backwards. Take the vial on the farthest right?” Pansy closed her hand around the vial and Snape nodded his head. “Drink it, along with these.” He handed a vial to both Draco and Harry. “Get help. I’ll hold off the thief as long as I can.” With that, Snape pulled another vial from his robes drank from it and passed through the black flame. 

Harry eyed the potion Snape had picked up and put down and picked it up. He shoved his vial into Draco’s hands. “Get help. I’m not letting him fight someone alone. Find McGonagall, tell her what happened. Go!” He pulled the stopper from the bottle and downed the potion in one go before he flung himself through the flames.

“Harry!” Pansy shrieked, she charged forward but the black flames billowed out with force and she stumbled back. She gaped at the wall of fire before she drank the potion Snape had instructed her too, waited for Draco to do the same, and the pair of them dashed through the purple flames for help. 

The flames passed around his body harmlessly. Surrounding him in darkness before he burst through the other side unscathed. 

“Fool of a boy!” 

Harry ducked his head at Snape’s reprimand and rubbed at the back of his neck. He couldn’t let the other man die alone. If Snape was in danger, which, judging by the looks of the other rooms he was, he would need help. Harry would do whatever he could. They advanced into the room from the small antechamber, Snape slightly ahead of Harry, both of their wands were drawn and Harry felt a pricking on the back of his neck. 

“You!” Harry cried out, astonished when they entered the room, his eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. 

Quirrell turned from his place in front of the mirror to look at Harry, looking right past Snape. He smiled, it was thin and disgusting, and drew closer to them slowly. “Who else were you expecting, Mr. Potter? Him?” Quirrell’s eyes flicked to Snape. “The oaf Hagrid?” He laughed, it was throaty and he shook his head. “No, Mr. Potter, it is I. No one would expect p-p-p-poor, Professor Q-Q-Quirrell, eh?”

“I suspected it was you, Quirinus, but what I can’t figure out is why.” Snape advanced towards the other teacher, his stature menacing. “Why? What could you possibly gain from the Stone?”

“It isn’t for me, Severus. You think me so vain?” Quirrell turned and walked towards the Mirror of Erised. He stroked his fingers down the frame. “No, no, it was for him.”

Harry gasped in pain as his scar felt like it was being ripped open similar to the night in the Forbidden Forest. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - maybe to warn Snape, but no sound came. Instead there was a rushing urge to vomit, and he pressed the heel of his palm to his temple and did his best not to make a sound. 

“Him?” Snape stepped down a few more stairs, his movements cautious. “Who?”

Quirrell tilted his head and placed his hand on the glass of the mirror. “How do I get it?! Tell me!” 

“It is not my task. I do not know.” Snape was moving closer to Quirrell still. “Who are you getting it for?”

Quirrell spun in place, his eyes wild as he looked at Snape. “Who else? The greatest, the best.”

“He’s dead! Are you that much of a fool?”

“Oh you poor, faithless fool.” Quirrell’s wrist snapped and flicked and Snape was sent against the wall. “I don’t want to waste my time on you.” 

Harry’s knees buckled when Quirrell advanced on him, his expression almost passive. It was hard to breathe and everything was aching. Harry scrambled back, his grip on his wand was loose but he brandished it anyway. “Keep away from me!”

“Oh Harry, dear, dear boy...” Quirrell’s wand moved again and Harry was rising to his feet, his body suddenly feeling very loose. “Come.”

Quirrell turned and the searing in Harry’s head grew a hundred fold. He couldn’t cry out. He couldn’t run. All he could do was advance forward. He stopped when he was in front of the mirror and peered into his reflection. He could hear Snape’s laboured breathing slightly behind him, off to the side, and all he could do in that moment, was stand there like a useless lump.

“What do you see?”

Harry gazed into the mirror. He watched as his reflection didn’t fade, instead, he saw his reflection reach into his pocket, pull out a fist-sized, blood red stone, and drop it into his pocket once more. He couldn’t move, but he was sure he could feel a heaviness in that pocket that hadn’t been there a second ago. The Stone. He had the Stone! 

“Well!”

Harry sucked in air and blinked. “I... I see...” He swallowed thickly, trying to think. “I see my mum and my dad. They’re standing behind me. They’re smiling.”

“He lies!”

Harry grunted at the low, almost-hiss that the words were. He wanted to clamp his hands over his ears but his limbs felt too heavy. 

“Let me... see him.”

“My Lord, are you --”

“Silence! I want to see the boy.”

Harry pivoted in place, but not of his own volition, and stared openly, terrified. Quirrell was standing in front of him, slowly watching as he unwrapped his turban. Snape was struggling against the wall, his eyes on his wand lying less than two feet from him on the ground. Snape’s body went still and his eyes went wide, his mouth going slightly lax in shock as the last of Quirrell’s turban fell away. Harry’s heart thudded against his chest and he wondered what on earth could make Snape so terrified. 

“Severussss. It’s so nice to see you again.” 

Harry hissed through his tightly clenched teeth at the serpentine voice. His body was on fire and tears of pain were pouring down his face and he could hear Quirrell giggling with mirth. 

“You will be dealt with later, blood traitor. For now, I deal with the boy.” A wet, almost hissing noise sounded along with a sound that could have been a twisted chuckle. “You were always ssscheming, weren’t you? Well... Enough talk.”

Quirrell turned his back to Harry and Harry gaped. Even though the pain, the shock was more intense. A grotesque face was on the back of Quirrell’s head. Coal-fire red eyes bore deep into his own, a slitted nose and a thin, lizard like mouth. It had no real shape to it, no real definition, but it was monstrous and terrifying. 

“Harry,” the face called. “My boy, you have the stone, don’t you?”

Harry jerked his head painfully from side to side. “No!” 

“Stop lying! You may have bested me once, but I can kill you this time!” 

Harry’s body was like lead but he ran. Every step felt like an eternity and pain was jolting up his spine as he moved away from the homunculus like being that was Voldemort on the back of Quirrell’s head. He fell hard against the stairs and the stone bounced out of his pocket, skittering against the stone steps. Harry struggled for air as he watched Quirrell-Voldemort spring into action, leaping for the stone. 

Harry rolled onto his side, hand stretching out. The tips of his fingers brushed against the stone. He pushed with is feet, trying to inch closer. Almost...! Quirrell stooped down to grab it and Harry’s fingers brushed his skin. The older wizard let out a yelp, dropping the Stone as his skin reddened and blistered. Harry stared at his hand in awe, feeling some of the weight in his body weaken he pushed himself up and leaped. 

The pain exploded in his head. He was screaming, he was sure of it. His fingers clamped down hard on Quirrell’s face, his skin splitting and bubbling with unseen heat. Quirrell stumbled back, crying in agony. Harry turned his hands over and looked at them, awed. He could breathe again. He moved, pressing as much weight behind his action as he could and grabbed onto Quirrell as hard as he could and refused to let go. 

His vision was hazing and he could barely catch his breath once again. His insides felt like they were being pulled apart and he felt like he was being dragged underwater by a heavy weight. He had to keep holding on! Just a few seconds longer. Something would happen! Help would arrive; Snape would get free. He just had to hand on!

He heard a woman screaming his name and everything went black. 

~*~  
Sound was the first thing Harry gained back. He could hear the sounds of someone rustling fabric and soft breathing. A sort of groggy fog filled his head, like he had been asleep for ages. At first he wanted to simply drift back down - he ached unpleasantly and he felt a bit light-headed, even lying down.

But soon the memories of the events leading up to protecting the Stone came thundering back, and Harry sat up with a jolt. He groaned as his head protested the movement, but looked around. Judging by the beds and open space, not to mention the pajamas he seemed to be wearing, Harry had landed himself in the Hospital Wing.

His movement caught the eye of the other person in the room, and Snape looked up from the book he was reading. The man appeared mostly fine, more disgruntled than anything, but panic seized Harry’s heart. Had the professor been hurt? Because of the stupid little adventure they’d wanted to go on...

The emotions must have been clear on his face, because Snape rolled his eyes. “Do not bother me with dramatics, Mr. Potter.” He drawled. “You’ve acted quite enough like a Gryffindor for one year, I think.” 

Harry grinned sheepishly at his professor. He really had acted like a Gryffindor. Ron’d be pleased. “How long have I been out?” He asked, eyeing the empty room and setting sun through the windows.

“Three days.” The professor replied easily, snapping his book closed and turning his entire focus onto Harry.

A gasp escaped him. Three whole days? Term ended tomorrow. A small bubble of panic that he’d be going back to the Dursleys in just a few hours threatened to choke him, and Harry looked desperately for a distraction. Luckily, one presented itself in the form of Professor Dumbledore. “Hello, sir.” He greeted somewhat uneasily. His last interaction with the Headmaster had been strange, to say the least. 

“Hello, Harry. It’s good to see you up.” Harry’s cheeks heated just a bit and he shrugged slightly. “And Severus. How are you feeling, my boy?”

Scowling, Snape send a glare towards a little door at the back of the wing, presumably to Madam Pomfrey’s office. “As fine as I was two days ago.” He huffed.

Dumbledore smiled at him. “Poppy is just being safe, Severus.” A sniff was his answer. The Headmaster turned his attention back to Harry. “Now, I’m sure you have some questions.”


	16. Casting Stones

“The Stone-” Harry began.

“Is perfectly safe,” Dumbledore finished easily.

Blinking at him, Harry tried again.  “And Professor Quirrell?”

Blue eyes regarded him serenely over half-moon spectacles.  “Is no longer a threat to anyone.”

Harry gulped.  Quirrell was dead by his hands.  It was a strange thought, but not one that helped him at the moment.  Instead he met the Headmaster’s gaze.  “And Draco and Pansy?”

“Are eagerly awaiting you to rejoin them.”  Dumbledore finished cheerfully.  He smiled at Harry, and waved at the bedside table, which was stacked with candy.  Harry hadn’t noticed at all.  “It appears that they are not the only ones.  It might interest you to know that Misters Fred and George Weasley got you a toilet seat, but it had to be confiscated for hygienic reasons.”  

A smile crossed Harry’s face at that, but his expression quickly became serious.  “And what will happen to the Stone now?”

Dumbledore’s face became serious as well.  “It has been destroyed.  I talked to my friend Nicolas Flamel, and we agreed that it was simply too big of a risk.”

The implications of that were quick to sink in.  “But, doesn’t that mean-?”

“Yes, dear boy, he and his wife will soon pass away.  Do not fret about it.  They have made their peace with it, and have plenty of Elixir to get their affairs in order.”

“How was I able to get it in the first place?”  He asked.

The Headmaster looked pleased with himself.  “A clever bit of magic, if I do say so myself.  You see, only a person who wanted the Stone but not use it would be given it.  That’s why we used the mirror, you see.  If they wanted it for money or immortality, they would see themself using the stone, and thus would not be able to get it.  One of my more brilliant ideas, and if I may say so, that is saying something.”

For a moment there was silence, as Harry tried to figure out how to phrase his next query.  He played with the top of his blanket for a moment, before a sigh came from the other bed.  “Mr. Potter wishes to know about how he was able to affect Quirrell in such a way.  A question I must admit I am also curious about.”  Snape eyed Harry.  “Next year we will have to work on being more subtle, I think.”  Harry blushed again, and then coloured harder when he realized that he’d just proven the man’s point.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.  “That is a question I’m afraid I do not have a clear answer for, though I do have an educated guess.”  He regarded Harry.  “On the night of your parents’ death, Harry, Lord Voldemort gave your mother a choice.”  On the other bed, Snape had gone very still and quiet, and Harry resisted the urge to look at him.  “He allowed her the chance to escape with her life, if she would only leave you to die.  But she did not, instead offering her life in exchange for yours.  When Voldemort killer her, and then turned his wand onto you, it created a powerful protection.  That is why Quirrell could not touch you.”

There was a long moment of silence, during which Harry’s emotions battled.  One part of him was clinging to this new knowledge of his parents with the desperation of a starving man.  Another part wanted to run over and cover his professor’s ears.  It was cruel of him to have to hear this.  Finally, his emotions calmed enough for him to speak.  “Why did he come for me in the first place?  I was just a baby.”

A sigh escaped Dumbledore, and he glanced away from Harry.  “I’m afraid, my boy, that such information will have to stay with me for the time being.  There are too many uncertainties, and the words are not meant for such young ears.”  Harry bristled slightly, but didn’t bother to try and fight it.  There was no arguing with that tone.  “Is there anything else?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, before he narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster.  “The invisibility cloak,” He murmured, and ignored the choked sound Snape made.  “Do you know anything about it?”

“Ah, yes.  It was your father’s, you see.  He left it to me for safe keeping, and I felt that he would want it given back to you.”  Harry nodded, absorbing that information.

The Headmaster stood slowly, and eyed the candy on Harry’s bedside table.  “Do you mind if I...?”  Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore took one o the bags of Every Flavour Beans.  “In my youth, I happened upon a vomit flavoured one, and lost my taste for them.  However...”  He dug through and came up with a cream coloured one.  “A nice toffee seems a safe enough bet.”  The bean disappeared into his mouth, and a strange look crossed over the Headmaster’s face.  “Alas, earwax.”  Harry recognized the obvious attempt to lighten the mood, but couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face anyway.

Smiling in return at the boy, Dumbledore nodded at him.  “I suppose I should be off.  Feel better, Harry, Severus.”  With that he breezed out of the room.

Harry chanced a glance at Snape, who was staring down at the cover of his book.  Guilt twisted in his stomach.  The professor had really cared about his mum, and hearing about her death, for Harry no less, must hurt tremendously.  “I’m sorry,” Harry told him, before he was even aware of the urge.

Dark eyes shot up to stare at Harry, and a range of emotions passed behind them, too quickly for Harry to identify any.  Finally, they settled on something ever so slightly soft.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Potter.”  He didn’t elaborate, but when he glanced back down and cracked the book open, he didn’t seem quite so tense.

A few minutes later, Harry could hear a slight commotion outside, before Pomfrey hustled down to the door.  She opened it and said a few sharp words, before glancing back out at Harry.  “Oh, alright.”  She finally sighed.  Just five minutes.”   Glancing back up at the boy, she gave him a severe look.  “You are to remain resting, Mr. Potter, and the second you get tired I want them cleared out.”  Harry blinked at her, confused.

The door opened all the way, and Draco and Pansy piled in.  The blonde surprised Harry by throwing his arms around him.  “Oh, thank Merlin!  Your idiotic Gryffindor-ness nearly got yourself killed!”  Noticing that they had an audience in the form of Snape, who was ignoring them for his book, and Pomfrey, who was retreating to her office, he backed off and smoothed his robes imperiously, as if he’d never done anything so emotional.   Pansy seemed to have no such hang-ups, and when Draco backed off, she replaced him.

“The past few days have been dreadful!  You wouldn’t wake up, and all anyone has been doing was talking about it, and I can’t believe it was Quirrell!”  At that, Pansy let go of them, and began to do a highly undignified little dance that involved a lot of hand waving and bum waggling.  “I was right!  I guessed it all the way back at the beginning of the term.  A genius, I am.”

From his bed, Snape made a choking noise, disguised as a cough.  This did not stop Pansy in the least.  Draco rolled his eyes.  “You were guessing.  It’s not like you actually thought it was Quirrell.”

Pansy waved him off, finally stopping her victory dance.  “You’re just mad that I’m right.”  She declared.  

Bristling, Draco straightened himself up, glaring down his nose at her.  “A Malfoy is not jealous of anyone!”  He declared.

Before Harry could do more than roll his eyes at them, Pomfrey re-emerged from her office.  “Alright, that’s quite enough of this!  Mr. Potter needs his rest, you know.  Off with you!”  She hustled out Draco and Pansy, ignoring their protests, and turned to Harry, who was blinking sleepily.  “Go to sleep, Mr. Potter.  You’ve had quite enough excitement for now, I think.”  

Harry wanted to protest, but fatigue was indeed wearing at him, and instead he settled down under the covers.  He closed his eyes, and faintly heard the sound of the office door shutting yet again.

Feeling secure in the warmth of sleep, Harry didn’t even bother to resist the urge to speak one last time.  “Pro’sr?”  He murmured.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”  Harry wondered if he was actually already asleep, because Snape’s tone sounded warmly affectionate, which couldn’t be right.

“Thanks again for this year.”  He was interrupted by a yawn.  “You were really helpful.  It was nice.”

Snape snorted in reaction to the word ‘nice’.  “That is what adults do, Mr. Potter.  They help the children in their care.”

Burrowing deeper under the covers, Harry mumbled, “Not me.  So thanks.”  And with that he drifted off, unaware of his professor’s thoughtful gaze.

The next day Harry and Snape were reluctantly released in time for the feast by Pomfrey, who sniffed and looked utterly put out, but didn’t outright protest.  Harry very much appreciated being able to have one more fun memory with his friends before he had to return to the Dursleys’.

The feast was a blast, especially considering Slytherin’s clear victory.  In fact, the win was by an even larger margin than thought, since when they passed the hourglasses a large number of emeralds had been added to their total.  At the feast, Dumbledore gave Harry and his friends a tiny toast with his goblet, and Harry smiled back, feeling pleased.

His good mood lasted until that evening, when Draco muttered urgently that they needed to talk, and they found an old classroom to speak in.

“You’ve been quiet.”  Draco pointed out from his perch on one of the desks.  Harry frowned at him and shrugged one shoulder.  Looking strangely worried, Draco’s grey eyes gazed intently at Harry, who really wished the other boy would focus elsewhere.

Finally, after a few moments of scrutiny, Harry caved.  “I just got out of the Hospital Wing.”  He offered.

A head shake was his answer.  “That’s not it.  You’re getting worse instead of better.”  Why had Draco picked now to be insightful?  “And some of the stuff you’ve said...Harry...”

“It’s nothing, okay?”  He snapped, wondering if he should just bolt.  But that would be suspicious, wouldn’t it?  More suspicious, anyway.

Draco stared at him for a moment longer, before his impatience got the best of him.  “You’re relatives are awful, aren’t they?”  Harry tensed up and made to yell, but Draco interrupted.  “No, no, listen to me!  Harry, if they’re as awful as I’m thinking, you don’t have to stay there.”

His shoulders hunched up defensively, and Harry glared.  “And what, stay at an orphanage?  Not bloody likely.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”  Draco replied with an eye roll.  “You could stay with us.”

Stunned, Harry stared at him, mouth falling open.  “I...Draco, I couldn’t.  Your parents...”

Draco waved a hand at him.  “Oh, please.  Do you think Mother would let you stay there if she thought you weren’t being treated right?”  Harry shrugged.  There was a big difference between being so nice like she had and taking Harry in for the summer.  “You- Harry, we already had you over for the entire winter break.  Do you really think it’d be that much different if you stayed the summer?”

That made a lot of sense, actually.  “It would...Could I really?”

“Yes, Merlin!  Get it through your thick head.  But,” Draco gave him a stern look.  “There’s a condition.”  Harry looked at him curiously.  “You have to tell me what they’ve done to you.  All of it.”

“Draco,” Harry started to protest, but he was cut off with a wave of Draco’s hand.

“I need to be able to convince my parents, don’t I?  Besides, that’s the deal.  Take it or leave it.”

Harry gave it some consideration.  He really  _really_  didn’t want to talk about it.  Ever.  White hot shame lashed through him at the thought.  But if it meant he could get out of there...He glanced up at Draco, who was watching him carefully.

The fact that it was  _Draco_  somehow made it easier.

“Are you sure?”  He finally answered.  “This stuff...It’s not pleasant at all.  Once you hear it you can’t take it back, you know.”

A dry look was his answer.  “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure.”  Draco told him imperiously, and a tiny, weak little smile crossed Harry’s face at the tone.

Slowly, he nodded.  “Alright.  I-I’ll tell you.”  He paused and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “I live...I live with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.  They have a son, Dudley.”  Harry broke off with a weak chuckle.  “You actually reminded me of him, a bit, when I first met you.  You were going on and on about your Father’s prestige, and...”  Harry trailed off and shook his head.  “Nevermind.  Uh...Thing is, they don’t really...like magic.  It scares them, a bit.  And so they don’t like me.  Never did.”

A swallow cut him off, and Harry took a moment.  “The first time I broke my arm was because Dudley pushed me down the front steps.  He got a cake that night.  I got to stay in my cupboard.”  Draco glanced at him at that.  “Oh, sorry.  That was my bedroom.  The cupboard under the stairs.  It was on my Hogwarts letter, actually.”  Harry smiled a bit at that, like it was a clever joke.  Draco did not.

“That’s the trend of it, I guess.  They gave me chores to do once I was old enough - stuff like clean the house or weed the garden.  If I...If I didn’t do it fast enough, or didn’t do a good enough job, I didn’t eat that day.  Sometimes not the next either.  And whenever something happened - accidental magic stuff, or things like getting better grades than Dudley, they locked me in the cupboard.  I once spent a week in there, and they only let me out to use the bathroom.”  Harry shrugged.

By this point Draco looked absolutely horrified, and Harry was shaking lightly.  Figuring he’d said well more than enough, he shrugged one more time.  “Guess I don’t really blame them.  They never wanted me - I was a burden to them. A freak.”  He ducked his head, not wanted to see those grey eyes anymore.

A pair of arms around his shoulders made Harry jump back, and he looked up to see Draco looking guilty, hands still reaching towards him.  The dark-haired boy settled a bit, and the arms crept back.  Finally, Draco had him in a loose hug, Harry’s head at his shoulder.  

At first Harry was unresponsive like he had been with Narcissa, unsure of how to react.  Slowly, his arms settled at Draco’s waist, and his head came to rest on the other boy’s shoulder.  Harry didn’t cry - he hadn’t cried over the Dursleys in a long time - but instead let his emotions drain out of him until he was limp against the blonde.

They stayed like that, with Draco providing the support Harry needed, until well into the night.

The next morning came too quickly and Harry was standing on the platform getting ready to go back to Privet Drive. Draco had assured him that his parents would come and in the meantime he would owl or - if he had to - post. Harry had given him the address all the same and Draco had assured him he would find a return one if it killed him. 

Now Harry was watching as Hedwig was loaded into the pet car and smiled. He felt exhausted, but at the same time, pleasantly content. He had done well in his first year. Made friends, learned amazing magic, and even defended the school with the best of them. That was something to be proud of, he was sure. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Someone’s looking smug!” Pansy taunted as she came up from behind Harry and looped an arm about his waist. “What’s gotten you so happy?”

“Dunno really, just thinking.”

“Oh?” Pansy ruffled up his already disarrayed hair and giggled. “About what?”

“How glad I am I got my letter.”

Pansy smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, loud and wet, and pouted when he wiped it off. “You’ll owl me, won’t you?”

“It’s a promise.” 

Pansy nodded and boarded the train, hopping up the steps gleefully. Draco ambled over, he had removed his robes but was still wearing his school issue trousers and dress shirt. His tie was only half done. He looked mischievous and it made Harry grin. 

“What’ve you been up to, then?”

“Oh, nothing much, casting the Bat Bogey Hex on some Hufflepuffs. A farewell gift.”

Harry smacked Draco lightly on the arm before looking up when Hagrid walked over. “Hullo, Hagrid.”

“I got you a going away gift...” Hagrid reached into his large coat and pulled out a book and handed it to Harry. “Thought it might keep you company during the summer.”

Harry took the book curiously and opened it. He stared down at the first page, his heart twisting in his chest at the sight of his mother and his father dancing by a fountain in thick, autumn dress. He stroked his finger down the glossy photo and closed the album. “I love it, Hagrid, thank you.”

Hagrid patted him on the head and made his way off. Harry noticed Snape standing near the edge of the platform with the other heads of House, his eyes dark and sharp. Harry kicked off the railing. 

“Go find Pansy. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Harry moved against the people boarding the train towards Snape, whose posture relaxed slightly. Harry stopped about arm’s length away from him. 

“Have a good summer, Professor.”

Snape gave a curt nod. “And you, Mr. Potter.” Snape was silent a moment. “And if those Muggles --”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry started, his voice low so as to not attract attention, “I’ll be sure to inform you. However, Draco’s offered to let me stay with is family.” 

Snape nodded again, his mouth in a thin line. “Very good. You’d better hurry or you’ll miss the train.”

Harry nodded. “Right,” He turned to leave before spinning back to face Snape. He thrust out his hand. Snape stared down at it a moment before his own closed around it. Harry shook firmly. “I’m pleased to have met you, sir.”

Snape’s mouth twitched and he released Harry’s hand. “Go, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded again and raced onto the train. Several people were playing with magical aeroplanes, or Exploding Snap. Harry moved down the aisles, waving to a few people he knew. He slid into a compartment and spotted Pansy and Draco. He dropped into a seat next to Pansy and grinned. 

Several Gryffindors burst through the compartment, shouting about something or other, before the door clanged shut behind them. Harry watched them, amused. He was going to miss the excitement and bustle of Hogwarts during the summer, that was for sure. Hermione passed through the compartment and paused at their seats, grabbing at the overhead railing as the train lurched into motion. 

“Neville’s lost Trevor again. Have you seen him?”

“Longbottom needs to put a tracking spell on that bloody frog.”

“It’s a toad,” Hermione corrected Draco, “and we’ve tried.”

“Well, we haven’t seen him. If we do, we’ll let you know.”

Hermione nodded once and turned on her heel to march out of the compartment. Pansy shook her head at her. 

“Not even a goodbye.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug before pulling over his backpack and pulled out a set of Dudley’s old clothes. He was sure if he didn’t look like a street urchin the Dursley’s wouldn’t recognize him. As he stood to go change in the loo, Harry reminded himself it was only for a few days. He took care and folded his uniform, doing his best not to get knocked around by the train, and slipped out, making his way back to his seat. 

“Those are funny sorts of clothes, aren’t they?” Pansy observed as Harry shoved his things back into his bag. “Are they a fashion statement?”

Harry cracked a smile and nodded his head. “Yeah, Pans, they’re a fashion statement.”

“A ghastly one, if I may say.” She rose her shoulders in a shrug and opened her copy of  _Witch Weekly_. 

Harry smiled at her and rested his head on her shoulder. He fell asleep to the noise of the students and the rocking back and forth of the train. 

“Wake up, you dolt.”

Harry shot up and wiped his face for drool before righting his glasses. “‘M up!”

“You slept the whole way to London.” 

Harry looked out the window and saw the familiar sign and platform. They’d arrived back at Platform 9 ¾. He looked at his watch and yawned. He stood and gathered his carry-on items and de-trained. 

He saw a gaggle of gingers off to one side and watched as Ron dashed to join them. Loud, happy cries of greeting were his response and he was enveloped into their fold. People were waving and shouting. Pansy ran past him and leaped into a tall man with dark hair. He was slender like her, and standing next to a woman with rambunctiously curly dark brown hair who hugged Pansy next. Harry waved when Pansy looked over and she waved back enthusiastically. 

Harry watched as some students crossed through the barriers in controlled numbers. He felt Draco’s hand lay against his arm and he turned his head, looking to the Malfoy. 

“Ready?”

Harry nodded his head. “Yeah.”

They slipped through with the next group and Draco led Harry towards where his parents were waiting in smart dress. Harry ducked his head at Narcissa’s glare towards his clothing but said nothing. She smiled at him and hugged him around the shoulders. 

“Where is your family, dear?”

Harry craned his neck around. He finally spotted his Aunt Petunia standing near a bench where both his uncle and Dudley were sitting. Dudley was devouring an ice cream. Harry fought the strong urge to sneer. “Over there.” 

Narcissa turned in place and eyed the Dursleys. Her upper lip curled unpleasantly, but she didn’t say anything. “Well then. It’s best you’d be off. Don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Harry nodded and looked to Draco, who patted his arm and nodded his head. Draco had promised to talk to his parents that night. Harry looked towards the Dursleys. Petunia was tapping her foot impatiently and crossing her arms. 

“I’d better go then.”

“I’ll owl you soon.”

Harry nodded and headed towards his aunt and uncle. Vernon lurched up out of the bench, which groaned at the action, and grabbed Harry by the arm. 

“Come along, boy. We’ve waited long enough.”

Harry nodded and the Dursleys lumbered off, Petunia spouting disgust as she walked. Harry gladly took his trolley from the attendant and added his bag to it. He turned and looked at at the Malfoy’s who were standing there, waving at him. Harry waved back before turning to push his trolley. 

When he rounded the end of the platform, he could see Draco wave one last time before he was gone in a blink. He rose a hand and waved at the empty air before rushing off at Vernon’s roar. 

Just a few days. 

Then it wouldn’t matter.


End file.
